


Welcome to Beacon Hills

by DeathsLights



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A really cool teacher, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beacon Hills is kinda of murder central, But when is he not?, Derek is still an Alpha, F/M, M/M, Realllly slow build, Slow Build, Stiles is a teacher, Wasn't kidding about the slow, and a BAMF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathsLights/pseuds/DeathsLights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thank God for all the murders in this town.  Wait-that made him sound a little psychotic. No, he was just appreciative of the sudden openings left in the wake of...deaths. </p><p>Shit that didn’t sound any better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mr. Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently it turns out that I can't stop...writing for this fandom so here's another story! If you want to suggest things go ahead : 3 also I would like to thank my awesome beta for taking the time to edit this. kittiekatt you are awesome...I can't think of a greater word at the moment but yeah she's awesome.
> 
> And I like the pack being together.....and dysfunctional OKAY! DON'T LOOK AT ME! READ, JUST READ!

**Welcome to Beacon Hills**

**Chapter 1:** **Mr. Stilinski**

Stiles unloaded his jeep, getting out all of his boxes. He cracked his back damn it, he was not a decrepit man. He was a perfectly healthy 22 year old male. He should not be hobbling like a geriatric man. Or holding his back like a pregnant woman. Fucking boxes and moving companies that cost way more than they should.

He sighed and turned to look at his house. It was an old, small, suburban, two storied single family home with had an open backyard that fenced off the woods. All in all it wasn’t bad. Sure it was a bit washed out, rusted in some places, paint peeling off in others, but it was sturdy and reliable...and he had to move and unpack all the boxes. By. Himself.

 Fuck his life.

-.-.-.-.-

Well his new house was relatively unpacked...okay he unpacked what he needed for tomorrow, just the bare essentials. The rest could wait.

Stiles looked around and felt a sharp pain in his chest, an ache deep within. He should have been used to an empty house with his father always working long hours, pulling doubles, and sometimes never actually coming home. But this, this was different. With his dad, there were signs of someone else; an empty cup in the sink, plates left on the table, half eaten muffins. Little residues; reminders of another's existence. Now he had to live on his own while his dad was in another state by himself. Stiles frowned. Who would look after his dad’s eating habits? Watch his cholesterol levels? Force him to eat his fruits and vegetables?

His phone rang sharply, startling him out of his trance. He quickly picked it up. “I’m starting to think this wasn’t a good idea.”

_“...Stiles, you were the one that wanted to work in a town where a murder occurs practically every day. I told you not to. Hell I pleaded with you not to.”_

“That’s not it! I’m worried about you! Who’s going to hound you about your eating habits? Who's going to stock the fridge full of healthy food? Who‘s going to scare all the local food joints into not giving you fatty, greasy, artery clogging food? Also not everyday-two point five murders every two weeks.”

“ _I knew you were the reason I couldn’t get a burger anymore! Damn it Stiles! A man needs his meat...and kid, it’s not normal to know the number of murders happening in a town by percentage.”_

Stiles scoffed. “Please! like I was ever _normal_. I’ll be fine dad. Nowhere else would even consider hiring me and this is a chance to get some experience. In a few years I can look for a job closer to where you are.”

A tired sigh could be heard through the phone. " _I know kid but I worry about you. You tend to be a handful."_

Stiles smiled softly. "It's inherited."

 John laughed. " _I pity Beacon Hills already."_

"Hey! Anyone would be happy to have me! They should feel honored to be graced with my awesome presence."

" _Whatever you say son. I've got to go; cases are starting to pile up. Try not to get into too much trouble."_

"No promises dad."

" _Had to give it a try. Goodbye son, I love you."_

"I love you too, Dad." He stared down at his phone for a long time before sighing and putting it back into his pocket. Stiles glanced around his new home and felt his chest clench tighter. Fresh air, yeah, that's what he needed right now. He made his way to the back door and pulled it open, stepping outside.

The wind blew rustling and swaying the trees beyond the iron gated property line, leaves fluttered and blades of grass moved, the wind powerful enough to make the trees groan and creak. Stiles pulled his hoodie closer to his body, shivering. He frowned and pressed himself closer together wasn't California supposed to be warm during the fall?

His head snapped up as he heard a noise. He squinted his eyes, peering at the forest trying to see better. Although his eyes had adjusted to the absence of light, it was still too dark to actually make anything out. He looked at the tree line for a few minutes but heard nothing further. He shrugged and turned to make his way back inside.

Stiles froze. His hand inches away from the door handle as he heard the noise once again, only this time it was clearer and he could actually classify what it was.

A howl.

A wolf's howl.

He quickly spun around and turned, scanning the yard, only this time he saw a flash of yellow, no- _flashes,_ of yellow, and blue. Were those _eyes?_ The weird thing though--these flashes fucking glowed, actually glowed, in the dark and were distinctly human shaped. He was pretty damn sure that; 1) California did _not_ have wolves, hadn't had them in years; and 2) wolves' eyes did _not_ glow and they did _not_ have human shaped eyes.

See now any normal person probably would have walked away and gone inside, pushing whatever they had seen to the back of their mind. But see,  here's the thing, he's Stiles; he's not normal and he can't leave things alone. He has to solve puzzles or he'll go crazy...okay...crazier. Which is why he jumped over the gate and walked into the forest looking for the glowing eyes and possibly his death.

Stiles paused as he entered the forest, glancing around, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He stopped as he noticed something sticking out off the tree in front of him. He walked a little closer to get a better look.

"...Is that a fucking _arrow_?"

He reached forward, pulling it out, he twisting it in his hands, and yeah, that was definitely an arrow. He looked up skywards. "Seriously? Plain murders weren't enough? Now you have to add a bow and arrow?" Stiles shook his head and turned. He looked around for a few minutes but found no trace of anyone or the glowing eyes. He turned to go back inside, but he stopped as he noticed something glint by his feet. He bent down and picked it up, brushing bits of dirt aside. He frowned. "Keys. So along with a psychotic person with a serious medieval weapons fetish, we have someone whose lost their keys... " Stiles shrugged and pocketed the keys. He turned and walked back home.

-.-.-.-.-

Stiles looked up at his new place of employment Beacon Hills High School. The school itself was absurdly huge it looked more like a boarding school than a public high school, not to mention the whole creepy horror movie vibe it had going on. Well, he had no choice; it was this or nothing.

Thank God for all the murders in this town.  Wait-that made him sound a little psychotic. No, he was just appreciative of the sudden openings left in the wake of...deaths. Shit that didn’t sound any better. But you couldn’t blame him being 22 years old with a teaching degree didn’t exactly yield openings, even if you had skipped a few grades.

"Stilinski! What the hell are you doing over there, gawking like a moron?!"

Stiles flailed and quickly turned around. "Mr. Finstock....hey..."

Finstock narrowed his eyes. "I told you, you either call me Coach or Coach Finstock, otherwise don't call me at all. Except you Greenberg you don't call me period."

Stiles looked around the empty parking lot in confusion. "Um....."

Coach grabbed Stiles and yanked him along. "Come on. We don't have time! We have to make these moronic kids less moronic! Or at least get our pay checks...thank God we don't get paid based on their grades because then we'd be begging out on the streets."

The younger man struggled to keep up, almost tripping as Finstock practically dragged him into the school.

            -.-.-.-.-

Stiles sighed. He had managed to get through most of the day; only his last period remained. Ugh. Why were teenagers so fucking stupid? And then there was Coach Finstock who had 'taken him under his wing because it was pathetic to let a grown man be trampled by teenagers'. He was not kidding the man had used those exact words as he manhandled Stiles. There was unnecessary rough handling and pulling that he would very much never like to part of again. Ever.

He glanced up as the bell rang and his last period class all trickled in. He took a deep breath and got up from behind his desk, smiling brightly. "I could give you all some speech about the traumatic events that have been plaguing your town and offer you condolences and sympathy, but that would  just waste time. I don't have time for bullshit. I'm here to teach and that's what I'm going to do.”

 He looked over the silent class, all of the teenagers wide-eyed and gaping. He nodded. "Alright, now that  that's out of the way, I guess I'll introduce myself. I'm Mr. Stilinski and I'm going to teaching you World Mythology for this semester." He gave a little wave to the students. "So if you have any questions or concerns or if you'd just like to ask me something then go ahead."

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and looked around the room. He nodded as a student raised her hand and reached behind him to grab his water bottle, opening it and taking a sip. The blonde, scantily dressed student grinned, displaying white teeth. "I just wanted to know if you're willing to teach _after hours,_ " she purred, leaning over her desk, flaunting her cleavage.

Stiles choked spitting out water. He quickly wiped his mouth and turned to look at the girl. What. The. Fuck?

Behind her, several students groaned, a dark haired boy hissed, "Erica don't."

Erica smirked. "Danny let me have some fun. Sooooo, Mr. Stilinski how old are you?"

Stiles coughed a little. "I don't see how that is relevant Ms....."

" _Erica_." She purred out seductively.

He looked down at the attendance list on his desk. "Ms. Reyes."

Erica smiled innocently."Just curious, like everyone else."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "I'm 22 actually."

At this the heads of several students snapped up in attention. A shaggy haired boy with a slightly uneven jaw blinked in awe. "You must be a genius!"

The teacher grinned. "And you are?"

The teenager smiled warmly. "I'm Scott! Scott McCall!"

Stiles eyes softened and yeah, he just found his favourite, shut up, he was allowed to have one. "Well Scott, I'm not a genius. I just skipped a few grades," he said as he winked.

"If you're so smart how come you're working _here_?" A blond haired boy sneered as he smugly looked at Stiles.

Stiles's eyes narrowed. "You are?"

The blond smirked. "Jackson Whittemore."

The little shit. "Well, Jackson, skipping a few grades in this economy doesn't mean anything, hence the reason why I'm here. But I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

 Jackson's face reddened as several people laughed. He whirled around and growled at the boys behind him. "Shut the fuck up Isaac! It's not funny McCall!"

The curly haired boy laughed harder. "No way t-this is just too hilarious!"

Scott leaned over and clutched Isaac's shoulder. "This is just awesome!"

"Language, Mr. Whittemore, unless you'd like a detention."

Erica practically purred. "Oh I'd like a detention."

The dark haired girl next to her glared. "Erica stop it!" she chastised.

"Come on Allison, just look at him. He's good enough to _devour_."

No. Just no. Stiles smirked. "Well then Ms. Reyes, if you want a detention so badly-"

Erica leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, "Oh I do."

"I'm sure Mr. Finstock would love to have you."

Instantly Erica hunched down into her seat, wide eyed. The students all burst into laughter.

"Oh, sweetheart that was just sad."

Erica turned to glare at the girl behind her. "Shut up Lydia."

The red head smiled coldly as she glossed her lips, ignoring the growling blond before her.

"Erica." The boy next to Lydia said quietly, keeping his eyes focused on the book in front of him as he spoke.

The blond pouted. "But Boyd I-"

"Leave her alone. Erica." He said quietly as he flipped to the next page in his book.

Erica deflated into her seat. "Fine," she muttered, perturbed.

The tanned boy, Danny, looked up at Stiles remorsefully. "I'm sorry Mr. Stilinski. Jackson and Erica didn't mean to insult you or make you uncomfortable. They..."

"That's just how they are. It takes some time to get used to them, sir." The girl beside Erica, Allison, said as she smiled at him.

Stiles grinned. "Well, we have a semester together. I hope that's enough time otherwise I'm going to end up with a drinking problem at the end of the year."

All the students laughed warmly. Stiles smiled, well this wasn't going too badly.

The rest of the class went by smoothly as he answered a few questions and then handed out a class syllabus, and gave the class an overview of what to expect for the coming semester.

He tilted his head as the shrill bell signalling the end of the school day rung. Stiles turned and waved to his students. "Get going guys." The students sprang up, all animatedly chatting with each other as they collected their things, all leaving the class grinning.

Stiles turned to his desk and started to collect his papers, shoving them into his laptop bag hazardously.

"Scott I didn't see your bike today. Where is it?"

Scott sighed, dejected. "I lost the keys to my bike last night, I had to walk all the way here in the morning."

Jackson sneered. "Nice going McCall."

"Shut up Jackson."

Allison smiled warmly and gently grasped Scott's shoulder. "Do you remember where you could have lost them?"

Scott frowned. "I think it was last night when we were.....you know where."

"We're going back tonight. Maybe we'll find them." Boyd stated quietly.

Scott nodded his shoulders drooping. "I hope so man. If not then I'm going to be walking to school forever once my mom finds out and locks my bike up because I'm so irresponsible." He said as he grabbed his backpack and walked towards the door.

Stiles paused, his hand automatically reaching into his back pocket. He looked down at his hand. "Scott."

Scott looked back. "Yes Mr. Stilinski?" Scott's hand instinctively reached out and caught what was thrown at him. He tilted his head and opened his hand. "My keys!"

Stiles's eyes narrowed. "Scott, where did you lose your keys?"

The teenagers in the room froze. Scott's head jerked up, his eyes darting around the room nervously "Um......I don't really remember. I mean, you probably found them in the school right? I lost them.Why would I remember _where_ I lost them right? But thanks Mr. Stilinski for finding them! I've got lacrosse practice so I'm going to go. Bye! See you!" With that Scott fled. He's not kidding the teen actually legitimately _fled_. From Stiles. The most non-threatening person to ever exist. He was sure Greenberg was more threatening and he wasn't even sure Greenberg was _real_.

He turned to look at the remaining students, his eyebrow raised in question. Jackson scowled. "Fucking McCall."

Danny elbowed Jackson in the side while grinning up at him. "Coach makes us run suicides if we're late, that's why Scott was in such a rush to get out of here. You've met Coach Finstock right?"

Stiles grimaced. "Yes, yes I have."

Isaac nodded and gripped his backpack tighter. "I guess we should get going then. Nobody wants to deal with more of Coach then they have to."

"You're all on the lacrosse team?"

"Yeah, we're all first string and I'm the captain," Jackson said with a gleam of pride.

"And Scott is co-captain, which you seem to keep forgetting Jackson," Isaac said as he smugly stared at Jackson.

"Lahey I'll deal with you on field."

"Okay now guys that's enough. Don't you have practice to get to?"

The teenagers nodded and slowly left the room with a chorus of "Goodbye, Mr. Stilinski."

Stiles watched their retreating backs for a few moments before he turned to resume shoving his papers back into his bag. He wasn't sure who they had been trying to fool with their poor deflective skills or their pitiful attempts at lying but there was no doubt they had been hiding _something_.

The question was did he really want to find out what that something was?


	2. Puzzles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by Kittiekat, seriously I make such stupid little errors it's downright embarrassing, so thank you for being my beta.
> 
> Hope this lives up to the expectation. Enjoy! : 3

**Welcome to Beacon Hills**

**Chapter 2: Puzzles**

Stiles managed to get to his jeep without the interference of the teachers or students, small miracles. Alright perhaps not miracles, more like him keeping to the back halls and then escaping out through the back door, but would you blame him? If you had to deal with Coach Finstock and teenagers questioning you about the most irrelevant, inane things you'd run as well.

But the student that took the prize for the most uncomfortable questioning session of his life (including the ones from his deputy father) was Erica Reyes. Stiles shuddered. That was borderline sexual harassment. That was the thing–the way she was–it seemed _....predatory_ , as in a predator hunting prey, and it made him feel defensive for his virtue and his body parts. At the same time.

Okay, he was not going to follow that thought pattern through. Stiles opened the door of his jeep, tossed his bag into the back, and then sat in the car, slowly leaving the parking lot still clustered by teenagers.

Later that night as he was drying his hair with his towel, he paused as he saw his laptop, he could look into a few things. He sat down in front of the laptop and stared at it, chewing his thumbnail. If he did this, there was no going back. He chewed on his bottom lip. There was a puzzle, perhaps multiple ones, in this town, potentially deadly–

Ah fuck it.

He opened the computer and waited for the screen to load. He logged in, his fingers flying over the keys as he typed. It was illegal and his dad was probably going to kill him for this, but he needed to figure this out. His dad would understand, there were kids­­­­–his students–involved in something. But there was _something_ wrong with this town, _something dark_. It was this pressure that had settled over his chest since he had entered this town. At first he tried to ignore it, but it grew and now it weighed heavily on him. A sense of dread, of pain and fear, the same he had when his mother had gotten ill. An illness, this town was sick with something. It sounds stupid, insane, _doesn't_ make sense but the feeling is there and it won't go away. Maybe if he figures things out, if he looks a little bit, the weight will disappear or at least not press so heavily against his chest.

He stared at the Beacon Hills Police Department's homepage and cracked his knuckles. It was time for some good old hacking.

-.-.-.-.-

Stiles looked at the reports spread out in front of him, eyes wandering from sheet to sheet as the timeline vaguely formed in his head. He quickly grabbed a pen and jotted down the dates of the murders and all the relevant information. Once he was done he stepped back and read over everything he had written. Around the time Laura Hale's body was discovered, the murders started, animal attacks apparently, and then Peter Hale goes missing, Lydia Martin is attacked, Isaac Lahey is arrested, Jackson Whittemore gets a restraining order, Erica and Boyd run away, oh and Derek Hale is arrested for the murder of his sister.

What the fuck was wrong with this town?

He chewed on his pen cap. So, the deaths in Beacon Hills started around the time that Laura Hale was–no. He shook his head. The deaths in this town started before that. The Hale fire. And that's why this was so weird. One of the last three remaining Hales dies, another goes missing, and the other is arrested for his own sister's death. Doesn't it seem like they were targeted? For an entire generation to be almost wiped out can't be a coincidence. Even the fire itself makes no sense. Nine people died– all found in the basement. Why were they there? The reports of the fire themselves were so unclear, vague, disjointed, had no significant information pertaining to the fire. Why was that? Then one of the deaths in town was the insurance inspector of that very same fire. There was no way that was a coincidence. Laura Hale comes into town, dies, her brother gets arrested, people start dying, and then her uncle goes missing.

Did _no one_ in this town find that suspicious?

Seriously, one of the last remaining Hales dies, one goes missing, _when he's comatose!_ And the other is arrested for his own sister's death. HOW IS THAT NOT WEIRD?!

He roughly ran his fingers through his hair, pulling lightly. Animal attacks is what they blamed it on, but the history of the area clearly states that there haven't been any animal attacks in years, 60 years to be exact. There is a remote possibility that it was actually an animal attack, but the likelihood of that, coinciding with Laura Hale's return was too much to be simply a probability.

Then there were his students; Jackson Whittemore, who previously had a restraining order against Scott McCall, but they are now friends?  At the very least, he hangs out with the very person he filed the order against. Then all the delinquents bond together? And become friends?  

Also, the glowing eyes in the forest and the howls.

His fingers twitched. So many puzzles to be solved. Stiles grinned. At least he wasn't going to be bored in this town.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles got into the lunch line, glancing around the cafeteria aimlessly, his gaze wandering until it stopped on a table near the back. Huh, they all sat at lunch together, there had to be a way to gain information on–"Oh my god!" Stiles almost dropped his lunch tray, his arms practically straining, what the fuck? He turned back to look at the tray in his hands and almost threw it away from himself. There was a blood red, congealed substance in his tray, he was sure it bubbled, oozed and did it just _hiss_ at him? He reeled back and looked up at the lunch lady and smiled although he was sure it looked more like grimace but hey his mother had raised a polite ass gentleman, so he thanked her. At least the fruit looked good. He grabbed a bunch of fruit, a pudding cup, and a bottle of water. After paying for everything, he wandered down the tables looking for a seat.

Stiles stopped and turned around as he came across Coach. He smirked. Would you look at that? He'd found a way to gain information. "Hey Coach, you mind if I sit with you today?"

Finstock stared at him for a moment and narrowed his eyes, chewing slowly. "Sure, Stilinski."

The younger man nodded in thanks and slid into the seat. Stiles looked around, his eyes stopping on the table that housed the teens in question. "So what can you tell me about those kids? The ones on the lacrosse team? Um, what were their names? The two team captains and their gang?"

Finstock eyed him strangely for a few seconds. "Why are you asking?"

Stiles shrugged and popped a strawberry into his mouth. "They're in my last period class, and, well, I had an...interesting encounter with them," he coughed uncomfortably.

Coach nodded. "You met Erica huh?"

He sighed. "You could say that."

"Hard to believe the girl was sick a year ago, used to get seizures, good for her, she's showing all those assholes who'd harass her."

Stiles' eyes widened, he leaned forward, interested. "You mean she just suddenly got better?"

Finstock nodded. "Yeah, probably some drug trial or something. Then there's the McCall kid. He was severely asthmatic, couldn't even keep up at practice, then all of a sudden he's doing fucking back-flips like a god damn gymnast on the field."

"What about the others?"

"Hell if I know. I remember that the Lahey kid used to be scared of his own shadow, then he grew a backbone, got all tough, Boyd, I can't say I remember him too much, kid was quiet, didn't have too many friends, works down at the rink. That's all I really know."

"When did Scott get better? Erica?"

Coach eyed him oddly. "I can't say I remember, probably around the tryouts last year."

Stiles edged closer, vibrating with excitement. "Around the time the first body was found right? Laura Hale's body, right?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it, was probably around then, and Erica probably around the string of murders, that's around the time those kids all started hanging around each other." Finstock looked down at Stiles' tray. "You gonna eat that?"

Stiles shook his head and pushed his tray towards the other man, and watched in disgust as Finstock struck his spoon into the red goo and ate it. He almost dry heaved, he quickly looked away. "I'll see you later Coach, I'm going to head on out."

Coach grunted and continued to eat. Stiles got up, grabbed his water bottle and left the cafeteria. So Scott and Erica mysteriously get better, their illnesses go away, they all start hanging out...and all of this occurs within the time period that all the deaths started happening. Something happened within that time, something that cured them and brought them together, and it wasn't drug trials. There were some cases where symptoms went away but for two to suddenly occur? And when murders were happening couldn't be a mere coincidence. Now all he had to figure out was what had happened during that time and he'd at least have solved one puzzle in this town.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles glanced up, his pen dangling from his mouth as his last class trickled in. He grinned up at them, waving them inside. He spat out his pen and stood. "So I know I talked a little bit about the course yesterday but I want to continue on that part. I know that this class may not be important or relevant to some of you. You may have taken this class because you needed a credit or you may actually be interested in mythology. I honestly am fine with that, but I want you to understand one thing. I'm doing this because I love it, because I have an obsession for it and I want you to respect that. I don't want you to be half assed because you think it's easy. I want this class to be different, for it to be interesting and fun, but I need all of you to understand that I'm not going to accept half hearted attempts at bullshit done the day before because you don't feel like this class is worth your time. That's disrespectful and I'm not going to tolerate that, understood?"

The students quickly nodded.

He smiled. "Good, now I talked about a project before that is going to be worth a major part of your grade, I know I'm talking about it now, even though it's due towards the end of the semester, and all of you are going to wait till the end to start, because–" he leaned forward and looked around whispering, "I'm guilty of that too. Honestly, teachers bullshit when they tell you they were on top of their work and they finished things weeks before they were due, that's a big fat lie. Trust me on that."

The students all cracked smiles and laughed.

"So yeah project, you can be in groups of let's say seven to eight people making around four to five large groups, I know lots of people but this way you'll have so many little brains, with different takes, different ideas and you'll be able to make a unique project. More fun. You can pick; gods, demons, angels, creatures, I don't care but what I don't want you to do is romanticize the idea, like they've been doing these days."

His nose scrunched in disgust. "Like with Twilight, Vampire Dairies, whatever other shit there is, I want you to go back to the time where these things, these creatures, scared you, were things of beauty, when they were outside of the human realm of understanding. I want you to go back decades, hundreds–even thousands of years–when these supernatural beings were feared yet respected. I want you to go back when you were afraid of the things under your bed. I want you to tell me why? Why were you so scared? I want you to go back when these beautiful, fearsome creatures weren't this idealized, romanticized thing where they have lost their value of that they were meant to be. Deterrents, morals, lessons, warnings, when they astounded you with their beauty, when their grotesque nature made you afraid of the dark, and kept you awake at night. Why do we feel so drawn to them? Why do they contain this aspect of humanity, where we can see ourselves in these creatures? I want you to take something from one region, one country, one continent and compare it to another. Tell me about their differences, the similarities, the emotions they invoke within you, whether it's love, fear, hate, repulsion, tell me why? Don't just give me baseless information, I want more than just facts." Stiles glanced around the room. "And I swear if I see Edward Cullen on any of the presentations, I will walk out and I will never return." He grinned. "Now go, get into groups, discuss, you don't have to plan anything, I want you guys to take in what I've said, just talk. Tomorrow we'll start learning things, today I just want you to think about what I've said, come up with vague ideas. Okay?"

The students all slowly blinked dazedly. their mouths hanging open slightly. Stiles glanced around and frowned. "Is something wrong?" They all shook their heads still stunned. He raised an eyebrow. "So move then." They all quickly got up, wandering around to form their groups.

Stiles leaned back into his chair and brought out his laptop, while overlooking the class. That was how the rest of the period was spent, the students discussing amongst themselves while he watched over them.  

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles glanced up from his laptop as the bell signalled the end of day. He smiled and waved his class out, returning his attention back to his screen, engrossed in the article he was reading. He looked up as footsteps came to a standstill in front of him, casting a shadow over his screen. He looked up and slowly blinked, frowning as he straightened up, his eyes darting from student to student. "Is something wrong?"

Isaac quickly shook his  head. "No, it's just that what you told us today, the way you said it, it was–"

"Amazing!" Scott said as he bounced on his toes, his eyes wide and his smile warm and bright. Everyone nodded, even Jackson and he was that kid was never impressed or at least never vocalized it because you know he's a little shit.

The teacher smiled. "Thank you."

"I can't wait for tomorrow!" Scott said excitedly.

Stiles smiled. "I'm glad all of you are so invested even though we haven't touched on anything yet."

"It's different. You're different from the rest of the teachers here. It's the way you talk about this course, the amount of emotion you put in to it. Even though it's been only two days, we've felt it and that's what makes us so willing to learn." Boyd stated quietly.

Stiles gaped. "Wow, that's probably the most flattering thing anyone has ever said to me, and it came from a 16 year old boy, who is my student....wow people suck. Or maybe my life is just shitty."

Boyd offered him a tiny amused smile and nodded. "Goodbye Mr. Stilinski."

"Bye Boyd! Bye everyone!" He waved as everyone left the room. He smiled, happy and elated. He kicked up his feet and leaned back against his chair, cupping the back of his head, damn he was good.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles quickly shoved his things into his bag. He couldn't believe he'd gotten so lost in his reading that he'd stayed hours after school. He glanced outside of the window and groaned. The sun was setting. He slung his bag over his shoulder and turned off the lights, hurrying to the entrance of the school. This was awesome. He was following every cliché in a horror movie, in a town where murder ran rampant like rats during the plague. Seriously, he was not about to become part of the weekly murder percentage rate in this shitty town. Not before he got some–wait did virgins die in horror movies? If not well then–Stiles paused. What was that? He strained his ears, there it was again. He closed his eyes and tilted his head, focusing on the sound. He quickly opened his eyes, his head jerked up.

Whimpering.

He could walk away, just go home and you know, not die. Stiles nodded. That was an awesome plan, probably the one that would save him–and he was walking towards the sound.

Great.

Damn his inability to leave shit alone! He knew it would come to bite him the ass, but in his defense, he'd never factored in that he would be in a town that actually _was_ a horror movie though. Huh. Next time he would factor that in.

Stiles stopped and glanced down the creepy, dark, foreboding 'this is where I will die' hallway. He probably shouldn't walk down the hallway–and his feet were already moving.

Fuck.

He glanced around looking for the source of the cries, his eyes wandering aimlessly, until they settled on a stack of curly blond hair. Wedged between the tiny space that separated two rows of lockers, Isaac sat, huddled down into himself, his head buried into his knees. Stiles quickly ran towards him, dropping down to the floor as he reached out and gently cupped the teen's shoulder. "Isaac?" Stiles carefully eased his head out his knees and his stomach plummeted. The teen's eyes wide and fearful darted around frantically, his body convulsing with shudders.

"Sorry, sorry I'm sorry Dad d-don't put me in there. I'll be good, I promise. Don't put me in there. It's dark and small and I can't breathe. Don't put me in there."

Stiles swallowed down the nausea swimming in his stomach and tenderly cradled his face between his hands. He forced Isaac's gaze onto him and spoke softly, his tone placid and soothing. "Isaac, whatever you're seeing isn't real. Okay? It's me, Mr. Stilinski. Keep your eyes on me and listen to me."

Isaac's gaze slowly focused on him but the shudders continued.

He licked his lips. "When I was little, I used to  get panic attacks. I'd have trouble breathing and I couldn't control my body. My hands would shake and the world would slow down. This pressure would press against my chest stopping me from breathing, and I knew it wasn't real but it wouldn't help. Sometimes it would get so bad that I'd black out, because my body couldn't get enough air and it would shut down. So I understand how afraid you are but it's not real. Whatever you're seeing isn't real. We're at the school, past normally healthy hours, seriously though way past normal hours considered to be healthy to the psyche."

"M-Mr. Stilinski?" Isaac's voice was nothing but a whisper, small and barely audible.

Stiles smiled. "Hey buddy."

Isaac quickly launched himself into Stiles' chest. Stiles blinked and brought his hands around him and rubbed Isaac's back. "It's okay, you're okay," Stiles muttered softly.

"Isaac!"

Stiles jerked his head towards the sound, his grip on Isaac tightening as feet stomped down the hallway. A few seconds later, Scott and the rest of his friends appeared.

Scott's eyes widened. "Mr. Stilinski?! Don't touch him! It's dangerous!" He quickly ran towards–

" _Stop_." Scott froze, Stiles narrowed his eyes and returned his focus back to the teen in his arms. "Isaac, are you okay now?" The head nestled in his chest nodded and slowly he removed himself from Stiles. The older man got up and brought Isaac up with him.

Isaac offered him a small smile. "Thank you."

Stiles nodded. "Do you need to go to a hospital?"

Isaac shook his head. "No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Stiles nodded and turned to look at the others. "Okay, now that I've done my concerned adult duty, what the hell are any of you doing here? There is no way that you could have known Isaac was here, he was in no condition to call for any of you. So explain to me; how Isaac ended up here and how you knew he was here?" Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm waiting."

All of them stiffened, Lydia smiled sharply. "We checked everywhere for him and we got lucky."

Stiles' eyebrow rose. "How long has he been missing for?"

"An hour!" Scott quickly butted in. Jackson face palmed  and everyone groaned.

"So I'm supposed to believe that in one hour you checked everywhere? And so how was the school a plausible location at all? I may have given you the benefit of the doubt, but this town isn't so small that you'd be able to scour it within an hour." Stiles stared at the teens impassively, he smiled. "So you want to either, try a believable lie or the truth? But in my honest opinion, I think you should go for the truth, because none of you can lie very well."

The teens silently stared at him. "You know what? I think I do need to go to the hospital!” Isaac quickly said.

Scott jumped. "I'll drive!"

"All of us will go!" Danny said and smiled.

Stiles spluttered. "Wait! You–" He watched as all of the teens bolted down the hallway, damn it! He grumbled to himself, and whirled around to pick up his bag, the one he'd dropped as soon as he'd seen Isaac. He reached for his bag. He'd figure this out. He stopped as he noticed something from the corner of his eye, wait what was that? He shoved his bag out of the way and trailed his fingers over the grooves in the floor. Claw marks? He looked up and found more on the edges of the lockers where Isaac was wedged. He let his fingers lightly run over the marks frowning. Stiles leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles' fingers trailed over the black leather tome, his hands lightly brushing against the carvings. Archaic Latin, _The Book of Creatures_. Inside, the pages would be yellowed with age, pictures of grotesque and beautiful creatures were housed, the colors vibrant in some, others dark.

Thoughts circled in his head as he thumbed the book open, his eyes moving over the pages he flipped. Glowing eyes. Howls. Claw marks. Sightings of a black monstrous creature that resembled a wolf but couldn't be because wolves couldn't be so big.

He stopped as reached the particular page.

_Lycanthrope._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this going to fast? I feel like it's going to fast *shifts eyes*
> 
> Promise Derek will be in the next one!


	3. Speed Racer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update but I really didn't feel like writing -.-, but look two chapters. TWO! As promised Derek's in this one!
> 
> As always betaed by the lovely Kittiekatt. : D Who was a big help with this since I had no idea how to bring Derek in.

**Welcome to Beacon Hills**

**Chapter 3: Speed Racer**

Werewolves.

Huh.

His students were werewolves.

...Oh God, he was actually going insane. He's been in this town for two days, _two days_! and he's already lost his mind! Holy shit, Beacon Hills was actually going to drive him towards the deep end of his already very short realm of sanity. His dad would have to visit him in the mental ward, where he'd be stoned and drooling while staring off into space.

Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it. How was that even an option?! He let out a hysterical giggle, werewolves! His students were werewolves! He wouldn't leave this town sane at this rate. Werewolves! He covered his face and groaned. "Oh my god, what's wrong with me?!"

They couldn't be werewolves.

No way did they get hairy on the night of a full moon...but then again some people believed that the shift could be controlled, could be done at will, it wouldn't be right to say they only transformed once a month based on common mythology when there were in fact other variations to every tale. For one, they didn't _look_ bloodthirsty...right?

**_Right?!_ **

Shit.

He was doing it again.

Stiles rubbed his eyes. This was stupid, _he_ was stupid. What kind of a person–normal person–he wasn't normal.

Right.

Even so, how did werewolves relate to anything? The animal attacks started after Laura Hale's murder and if they were related to her, then they would be related to Derek and Peter Hale as well. Whatever had happened previously and was currently happening was connected to the Hales. But how? Why? What was it about the Hales then? Stiles chewed his nail. Their misfortune couldn't just be a cruel twist of fate, or even an accident, because entire generations aren't wiped out, only for the last three remaining survivors to suddenly end up on the wrong side of luck. Stiles narrowed his eyes. Unless _foul play_ was involved, which would mean that something would happen to the last remaining Hale, Derek. But then, what part did Lycanthropy play in all of this? How did his students factor into this mess?

Stiles' eyes drifted back to the paper by his desk. He went over and looked over the notes of Laura Hale's investigation, his eyes darting over the page.

Scott.

 He quickly flipped through the pages, his eyes quickly scanning the words. Stiles let out a laugh and shook his head. How could he have not seen it? The common link among everything was Scott. Scott was the one that had found Laura Hale's body, accused Derek of his own sister's murder, actually the one who forcefully detained Jackson, and found and persuaded Boyd and Erica to return.

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip. So the stars in the horror film that was this town were Scott McCall, Laura Hale, Derek Hale, and Peter Hale. Something happened to start this snowball effect. He grinned, elated, his eyes shining in childishly glee. Even if he had to put his sanity on the line, he'd solve this mystery.

His eyes drifted back over the book on his bed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles yawned, his jaw cracking, mentally going over his lesson plan for the day. Today was actually his first legit day of teaching. He'd have to figure out how to work the projector, try not to get chalk everywhere, try to avoid Harris. Maybe Finstock had a force field that could repel Harris? Most teachers tended to avoid Coach, hopefully one of those happened to be the Chemistry teacher. He glanced up at his rear view mirror and squinted, frowning in confusion. What?

...Wait, why wasn't the car behind him slowing down?!

"Oh my–" He quickly swerved to the shoulder and slammed on the brakes as a sleek black car sped past him. Stiles let out a pained grunt as his seatbelt cut across his chest, restricting his airway. Yeah, that was going to leave a mark. He quickly looked up. "Son of–Hey! Get back here asshole!" The fucker had almost damaged his jeep and almost killed him in the process! Stiles sneered at the disappearing taillights. If he **_ever_** saw the asshole again, he'd get even. Oh, more than even.

Stiles glared skywards. "If I do in fact die in this shitty town, can I at least go in a remotely cool way? Like the glowing eyes in the forest or at least even by the psycho with a thing for archery? At the very least, not by some overcompensating dickwad that can't drive."

He huffed, his eyes drifting to the clock on his dashboard. Aaaand he was late. Of course.

Awesome.

Stiles gently eased his car back on the road and glanced around cautiously for anymore murder attempts. First his life was a horror movie and now a bad, low budget action movie? What was next, a sappy harlequin movie that aired on the Hallmark channel? He let out a snort. Knowing his luck he'd be the heroine, not even the hero, because–his life, people. His life.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles quickly burst into school, panting. He clutched his stomach and doubled over. Oh God, he was going to vomit.

"Pretty fast there Stilinski."

He glanced up and held up his pointer finger as he tried to not spew his breakfast all over the floor. "Give...me...a minute."

Finstock let out a laugh and clapped him on the back. Stiles stumbled and almost face planted on the ground. After a few seconds he straightened up, his breathing coming a bit easier now. "You did cross country in school?"

Stiles shook his head. "Running away from teachers and bullies."

Finstock let out another laugh. "You were a little shit growing up, weren't you?"

The younger man grinned. "Menace really."

Coach shook his head. "Thank God you ain't my problem, then."

Stiles let out a laugh. "You should be really grateful then." His smile fell as he glanced around in confusion. The students all huddled together whispering to each other, while further back some of the teachers stood together, quietly talking amongst themselves, their eyes darting around nervously. He hadn't noticed it before but the air was oppressive and stifling, the tension almost palpable in a form that had settled over everyone. "What's going on?"

"There's been another murder."

"Shit, really?"

Finstock nodded.

Stiles frowned. "How come we still have class? Wouldn't it make sense to cancel school then?"

"Kid, there's always a murder in this town, if we shut down every time some poor sucker ends up dead nobody in this town would graduate."

"So what happens now?"

Coach shrugged. "Same crap that happens every time–assembly. Students there's been another murder, be careful and try not to die. That was the short version, the one the old pile of bones will deliver, an hour long speech filled with dramatics and stupid quotes and other shit. Bring something to do, a book or magazine or you'll be bored and falling asleep. Well I'm off to go work these lazy asses so they sweat and cry tears."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure you aren't allowed to do that."

Finstock scoffed. "I'm not paid enough not to," he said as he waved in departure.

Stiles blinked. Thank God he wasn't a student here. He shuddered. He couldn't handle having Coach as a teacher.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Stupid school! If no one gave me a tour how am I supposed to find shit? Or survive a mass murder if I don't know the god damn layout?" Stiles grumbled to himself. He needed to find the resource room so that he could set up form his class. On a side note, he'd need to look over blueprints soon, and start devising survival strategies, was he allowed to carry weapons? If not–

"And what exactly are you doing outside of class?"

Stiles stiffened. "I wasn't sneaking out or anything! I swear!"

"What are you talking about Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles opened his eyes and sheepishly smiled. "Hey, Mr. Harris." He scratched the back of his neck. "Old habits."

Harris sneered. "It's not hard to believe that you'd be a problem child." The smile on Stiles' face dropped. The older man turned his focus back in front of him. "But I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about **_them_**." Stiles follows Harris's gaze and of course it would be Scott and his band of leather wearing delinquents.

Scott's expression was caught somewhere between a range of 'oh shit' and 'I need to come up with a lie,' while Boyd's was just downright blank. Now Boyd could teach Scott a thing or two in the art of subtlety or at least teach him not to look so damn guilty all the time. Jackson just looked pained and agitated being near them.

"We–"

"They're helping me out, actually," Stiles cut Scott off before he had the chance to dig himself a not doubt endless black hole.

Harris narrowed his eyes. " _They're_ helping you out? _Them_?"

"Somebody has to, since I wasn't given the tour of this place." Stiles smiled pleasantly. "Who was supposed to give that tour, by the way? I'm sure it wasn't Coach Finstock, since he would have done so already, do you know who was supposed to give me one?"

"I figured with the amount of _intelligence_ you claim to have it wouldn't be a problem."

"Oh, _you_ figured it wouldn't be a problem but I wonder if the others will feel the same way?”

Harris offered him an insincere and strained smile. "I could take you on a tour right now, if you want."

"No thank you, but these sweet students have offered me one and I'm going to take them up on their offer."

The older man nodded. "Well then, I have a class to get to, if you'll excuse me."

"Please, leave." Stiles' smile fell as soon as Harris was out of sight. "He's such a dick."

"Are you even allowed to say that?" Scott said as he slowly blinked in shock.

"I am if it's true."

Jackson snorted. Boyd's lips twitched in amusement.

Stiles sighed. "What are you guys doing, anyway?"

Scott tensed his gaze darting aimlessly, but never meeting Stiles'. "We were just–"

" ** _Don't_**." Scott snapped his jaw shut and flinched backwards. "Don't make this worse than it has to be, just–go to class."

"But–"

"You aren't going to tell me the truth, we both know that but at least give me enough respect not to lie to my face. I just lied for you, for _all_ of you, just go to class." Stiles sighed tiredly and ran his fingers through his hair. "As a favor to me, please, don't lie to me–for today at least, you owe me that much."

Jackson clenched his teeth together and whirled around walking away. Boyd stared at Stiles for a few seconds before he slowly nodded and followed after Jackson. Scott stayed and fisted the sides of his shirt. He swallowed and focused his gaze on the floor. "Thank you," he muttered softly, slowly lifting his head. He spoke hesitantly, "I'm sorry." Scott straightened up, his gaze determined and unwavering. "Please, be careful." He stared at Stiles for a few moments longer and then turned and walked away, his shoulders slumping wearily.

Stiles frowned as he watched Scott's retreating back. Be careful? Be careful about what? He shook his head. He didn't have time to worry about this. He needed to go find–and he still didn't know where the resource room was.

DAMN IT!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles rolled his shoulders and stretched, working the kinks out of his body. At least he had found the damn room. Even if he had managed to waste the majority of his first period looking for it, it was okay. He had his stuff ready for the next class.  Now it was time for lunch, the blissful free period filled with food. Did the school serve curly fries? If so, then would the school have _good_ curly fries? Or would they taint the celestial sanctum that was–

He let out a squawk as he tripped and fell, quickly putting his hands out in front of him to stop from smashing his face against the floor. He hissed as his palms scraped against the cold surface. "Ow, that hurt," he muttered as he blew on his redden agitated skin. What had he just tripped over? Stiles turned and looked over his shoulder, and froze. "Isaac?!"

Isaac let out a groan, his head lolled uselessly to the side, his face sickeningly pale, a thin shine of sweat coating it. He slowly blinked, his gaze feverish and glazed. He pulled his outstretched legs closer to himself and buried his head into his knees.

Stiles quickly kneeled next to him and gently eased his face out from between his knees. "Hey, Isaac? Buddy, are you okay?" He brushed sweat soaked bangs out of his face and placed his hand on his forehead. "Shit, you're burning up."

Isaac's eyes fluttered closed and he slumped into him. Stiles quickly placed his arms around Isaac, supporting him. "I don't feel good," Isaac slurred into Stiles' shoulder.

Stiles let out a snort. "You don't look too good either, buddy." He patted Isaac's back and chewed his lip, looking around for help.

"Oh my, is he okay?"

Stiles quickly looked up and smiled in relief as he saw a few of the teachers running towards him. He shook his head and shifted so Isaac slumped deeper into his side. "I think he needs to go to a hospital. Call his guardian. I'm going to take him outside, maybe the fresh air will help him ."

Finstock looked down at Isaac and frowned. "Hey, you'll be ready to play in today's game right?"

Isaac let out a weak groan.

" _Really_? Did you _seriously_ just ask him that?" Stiles glared.

"It's important! He's one of the star players. I mean, he's conscious right, so he'll be fine."

Stiles glared harder. He huffed and slowly brought Isaac up, supporting his weight. He threw Isaac's arm over his shoulder and tightened his grip. He frowned as Isaac let out a weak whimper, almost falling as his knees buckled. "Coach, can you take over my classes for the day? I don't want to leave Isaac on his own."

Finstock shrugged, and grinned darkly. "Sure, I don't mind. But you're going to have to owe me one."

Stiles twitched. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Definitely," Coach replied gleefully.

He turned to look at Isaac as he let out another weak moan. He stared at Isaac's pale face for a few seconds. "Alright, I'll owe you one then."

"Deal."

Stiles tried not to shudder at how ominous it sounded. This was going to come back and bite him in the ass wasn't it?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Isaac blurrily opened his eyes, blinking, trying to focus his vision. He opened his mouth in confusion as something pressed against his lips. He let out a small, happy sigh as he felt cool water drain down his throat. He quickly swallowed down more mouthfuls.

"Hey, easy dude, drink slowly."

His vision sharpened, and he blinked slowly."Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles grinned and pulled his hand back. "How do you feel now buddy?"

"Better. It doesn't hurt as much."

The older man nodded and brushed his hand against Isaac's forehead. "Your head doesn't feel quite so hot anymore, that's good." Stiles leaned back. "I'm like your personal Batman."

Isaac banefully glared. "I'm not a chick."

"Your curls say otherwise buddy," Stiles said as he lifted his hand and ruffled Isaac's hair.

Both of them winced as screeching filled the air. Isaac let out a groan and placed his head into his hands. "You called Derek."

Stiles frowned. "Derek?" He turned to look at the parking lot–

Son of–

He knew that car! Stiles quickly sprang to his feet just as the car door opened. Oh he was going to get–

Holy shit, there was a human Adonis getting out of the car. A human Adonis, with a black leather jacket and shirt that strained, _strained!_ against the cloth prison that was shirt and did he mention the tight jeans? Because damn those jeans were sinfully tight and he hadn't even gotten to the man's– _Derek's—_ face, which was beautiful, it was seriously a work of art, even his hairy eyebrows didn't take away from it, and seriously those were some bushy eyebrows, like the bushiest he ever seen. He never realized he had a thing for scruff until now.  Even if he's got douche sunglasses on, the man is beautiful–and he tried to kill his jeep and him.

 Right.

  _Insanely_ attractive.

Derek walked up to him and grinned wide and bright and wow, even his teeth were perfect even if his canines are a bit larger than average. Did he mention how white they are? Because he can see his reflection in them, seriously that's how white this man's teeth are. He supposes it's supposed to be a flirting, charming smile but it's not. It's fake and shallow. His eyes narrowed. ” ** _You_** ,” he gritted out tightly between his teeth.

The man in front of him paused, his smile faltering. "Me?"

Stiles dug a finger into the man's chest and it's a rock hard–nope, focus, remember he tried to kill you. "You tried to kill me!"

Isaac's gaze darted between his teacher and Derek. He turned to look at his guardian incredulously. "You tried to kill him?"

Derek glared down at Isaac in disdain. "No." He turned to look at Stiles and forced another grin, this time it was more flawed, more forced. "You're mistaken."

Stiles sneered and crossed his arms over his chest. "Remember the blue jeep from this morning?" Derek's smile fell. "Well, hello, meet the driver, fucker."

Isaac stared up at Derek with wide eyes. "Is that true?"

"He was going too slow," Derek said through clenched teeth.

Stiles blinked in disbelief. "Excuse me? I was going too slow?" he said slowly, ice hanging off his words.

Isaac's eyes moved from Stiles to Derek. "Derek, you really shouldn't–"

"Yes."

" _That_ , in case you were unaware was, _safe driving_ , say it with me now _safe driving_. I know that's it's a foreign concept but that is generally how people drive in this world."

Derek's eyes narrowed behind his shades. "Some snot nosed kid is going to tell me, what safe driving is?"

"Fuck you, I've been driving for years."

"Go back to class, kid." Derek waved his hand dismissively.

Stiles grinned smugly. "I'm a teacher here."

"You're a teacher? You?"

"Yes."

”Derek he's–"

Derek's eyes tracked the length of his body. "I don't see it. Since when did they start hiring pre-schooler's?"

Stiles twitched. "I'm 22, asshole, and this coming from dude who's taken douche up a level. Who taught you how to drive? A blind street racer?" Isaac let out a snort and covered his mouth. Stiles turned to look at him and grinned. "You see it too, don't you?" Isaac's shoulders shook in his silent amusement. Derek glared coldly.

Isaac looked up at Derek and grinned. "This is Mr. Stilinski, my World Mythology teacher."

Stiles turned his attention back to Derek and smirked. "Stiles Stilinski, and you are?"

"You expect me to believe he's a teacher with a name like Stiles?"

"Fuck you. It's a nickname. Now, either you tell me your name or I'm going to call you the dick that overcompensates."

Derek clenched his jaw together tightly. "Derek Hale."

He blinked and suddenly it clicked. "You're Derek Hale. _The_ Derek Hale. Of course you are."

The man in front of him tensed. "I don't know what you've heard, but I didn't kill my sister."

Stiles frowned. "What?" He shook his head. "Of course you didn't, you loved her. Even if you wanted to,  you had what, six years to do it? Why wait that long? Doesn't make sense."

"That's not what most people say," Derek muttered resentfully.

"Well most people are stupid and I'm not exactly part of the norm of society." He turned to look at Isaac. "And you, buddy are going to the hospital." 

"What? No. I'm fine! I feel better already, there's no need to go!" Isaac protested vehemently.

"He doesn't need a hospital," Derek replied.

Stiles ignored Derek and crossed his arms over his chest. "Get up then."

Isaac glared venomously and gritted his teeth, struggling to push himself up, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out over his forehead as he gradually pushed himself up. He slowly stood, panting. "S–See I–I'm fine." As soon as the words left his mouth, his knees buckled.

Stiles quickly caught him before he could fall. "Yeah, you are just the poster boy of health." Isaac let out another weak groan. "Hospital it is then. Come on, my jeep's just over there. Unless..." Stiles looked down at Isaac, his eyes cold and hard. "There's a reason why you can't."

"I think I really do need to go to a hospital."

He grinned. "I knew you'd see it my way."

Derek stepped forward to take Isaac's weight. "I'll take him."

"Nope." Stiles sidestepped the other man. "Isaac's not getting in your car."

"What? You just said that you didn't believe those–"

"Yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that you drive like a blind delinquent street racer. We're trying to take Isaac to the hospital not the afterlife."

Derek scowled and grabbed Isaac's other arm, throwing it over his shoulder, so he wasn't so heavily slumped against Stiles. "My driving is fine."

Stiles snorted. "Whatever you say, Speed Racer." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand there was the explosion of them meeting XD!


	4. Something to be Protected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am debating whether to do a Christmas Sterek fic...anyone have ideas? Kittiekatt is on a roll today, she edited two chapters! : D Seriously she makes this fic so much better.

**Welcome to Beacon Hills**

**Chapter 4: Something to be Protected**

Together Derek and Stiles shoulder Isaac's weight between them into Beacon Hill's Hospital. "Isaac?" Stiles turned to look at the frazzled nurse who came towards them. She stopped in front of them, looking at Isaac frowning. "Isaac?"

Isaac lifted his head and offered her a weak grin. "Hey, Mrs. McCall."

She turned to look at Derek. "What's wrong with him? Wait, why's he here in the first place!" she hissed out as she glanced around.

Stiles frowned. "What? What do you mean why's he here in the first place? He's obviously sick. This is where people go when they're sick..."

Derek rolled his eyes. " _He_ wouldn't listen to me when I told him Isaac just needed to go home, so here we are."

"Because he needs to be checked out! Yesterday he was hallucinating and today he's burning up and barely conscious, so excuse me if I think he needs to be examined!"

"He what?"

Isaac winced. "I think I want to be taken to the exam room now, please."

Derek glared down at Isaac. "You were hallucinating?"

"I think I'm going to pass out now."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I'm passed out now."

"Don't worry, Isaac, when you wake up we are going to **_talk_**."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles fingers tapped out a steady beat on the table next him, while he chewed on the thumbnail of his free hand, his legs jumping up and down as his eyes darted from side to side.

" ** _Stop_**."

"Stop? Stop what."

Derek glared down at the magazine in his hands. "Everything."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. ”What? Breathing?"

"Moving."

He lasted a whole ten minutes.

Derek growled and turned to glare at the side of Stiles' head. He stilled. "Sorry, it's just that I don't do well in hospitals. I really don't like them."

"Then why are you here?"

Stiles blinked. "Because Isaac's sick."

Derek frowned. "You're in a place that scares you because Isaac is sick?"

 "I never said it scared me!"

".........."

Stiles huffed. "It doesn't! It just makes me uncomfortable, okay? And yes, I'm here because of Isaac. I'm not scared of hospitals." He glared. "Your eyebrow is judging me."

Derek's eyebrow merely rose higher.

"Okay, fine. Be a dick then," Stiles grumbled and turned to look at the nurse's station in front of him.

After a few minutes of silence, Derek spoke again, "Why?"

"Dude, you need to learn to use your words. Communication involves more than a single word."

 Derek clenched his jaw. "Why do you care so much about Isaac? You can't have known him for more than a few days."

Stiles tilted his head. "Is it really so hard to believe that someone is just trying to be a good human being?"

"Yes."

"Okay, that's just sad." Stiles sighed and chewed on his lip in thought. "I guess it's because I relate to him in some sense. To all of them, actually. I understand how it's like not to fit in anywhere." He offered Derek a warm grin. "But that's where we're different, Isaac has a place though, with his friends and you." Stiles sprang up to his feet as Mrs. McCall came out through the doors. He quickly made his way over towards her. "Is Isaac okay?"

Mrs. McCall offered him tired grin and leaned against desk behind her. "They're still running some tests, but he seems to be better now. You are?"

Stiles sheepishly grinned. "Sorry, I haven't introduced myself, I'm Mr. Stilinski the–"

"World Mythology teacher." Mrs. McCall finished. "You're very young."

"Skipped a few grades, and you're Scott's mom. I take it that Scott's been talking about me."

"Sometimes I really wonder about that," she said as she grinned. "More like he still hasn't stopped as soon as he gets home, he starts ranting about you."

Stiles beamed, he knew Scott was his favourite for a reason. "He's a sweet kid, Mrs. McCall."

She let out a snort. "You're the first to think so, second actually, but I'm pretty sure Coach Finstock isn't a valid reference."

The teacher frowned. "Is Scott having trouble in school?"

The nurse let out a sigh. "Trouble isn't the word I'd use."

Stiles licked his lip. "I could tutor Scott, in the subjects he's having trouble in.”

Mrs. McCall stared at him for a few seconds. "Why would you do that?"

He frowned. "You're the second person to ask me that today. Is distrust and suspicion a town slogan or something?"

"It is when your town is its own murder mystery."  

Stiles nodded. "Fair point." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "My dad is a single father Mrs. McCall and when I was growing up I was just–a little shit really. I made things so much more difficult for him than they should have been." Stiles grinned fondly. "I actually blew up my old high school's chemistry lab just because the teacher pissed me off. I get how hard it is for single parents and I just want to make it a bit easier for you and Scott." He shrugged. "Honestly speaking, I don't exactly have much to do in town. I'm a bit bored. This way, I'll have something to do. I can do session twice a week after school, at the school library? Or however many Scott needs really."

"How did you know I was a single mother?"

"Sixth sense. That and the bags under your eyes. My dad has the same."

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. "It's going to be bad."

"What does Scott have trouble with?"

"Math, Chemistry, History and English."

Stiles blinked. "That's almost everything."

"He's good in Gym and we'll see about World Mythology, but I warned you it was going to be bad."

"Well at least it'll be challenging."

Mrs. McCall let out a small laugh and smiled warmly. "I can see why Scott talks about you so." She held out her hand. "Melissa McCall."

Stiles shook her hand. "Stiles Stilinski."

She blinked. "Stiles?"

"My real name is a curse, if I told you, you may actually die."

Melissa let out laugh and shook her head. "You're a strange one aren't you."

"But I'm funny too. I think combined together it makes irresistible, really."

Mrs. McCall's eyes softened. "Thank you."

Stiles smiled in response. "But, honestly speaking Mrs. McCall, Scott is sweet kid, it's something you can be proud of."

He nodded and waved to her as she left, then returned back to seat at ease. He frowned, the skin along the back of neck burned and tingled, he glanced out of the corner of his eye. "I know my face is beautiful, and a thing of wonder but, why are you staring at me?"

 Derek's eyebrows burrowed down. "It's nothing," he muttered and returned to glower at the wall in front of him.

Stiles eyed him strangely for a few seconds and shrugged. He twitched and ran his fingers through his hair. "You shouldn't do that, you know?"

"Do what?"

"Smile like that when you don't mean it." Derek stiffened. Stiles continued,  "It's a really shitty thing to do to someone, to make them think you're interested in them just to get something. Don't teach Isaac those things, he's a good kid and I hope that you're a good person too.  So don't teach Isaac how to use people because if he learns how to, he's going to end up alone, once you start using people you start tossing them away. Don't introduce Isaac to that world, and–" Stiles cleared his throat. "You shouldn't go into it either." He quickly jumped to his feet once he saw Isaac walk through the doors. Isaac gave them a little grin and made his way over towards them. "How do you feel now?"

"Better. They said it was probably a sudden allergic reaction to something and since I don't know what it is they couldn't tell me."

"It was a sudden allergic reaction?"

Isaac nodded. "It happens. But, I'm fine now."

Stiles let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, thank God you're okay little dude." He grinned and ruffled Isaac's hair.

The teen gave him warm smile. "Thanks." The teacher narrowed his eyes and stared at Isaac for a few seconds. Isaac tensed. "What?"

"How are your grades Isaac?"

"Good," Isaac said quickly. "There fine." Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Okay, they're not so good," Isaac muttered sullenly.

Stiles nodded. "Alright then, you can join Scott and me for tutoring sessions after school from now on."

"He can what?"

The teacher turned to look over his shoulder, seeing floppy brown hair, grinned. "This makes things easier. Hey Scott, we're going to be having tutoring sessions after school in the school's library twice a week from now on, or more, depending on how bad your grades are." Scott slowly blinked, frozen in the middle of the hall, the rest of his friends stood behind him. Stiles turned to face them. "If you want, all of you are more than welcome. Or stop by at least when you're having trouble in any case."

"I'm what now?"

"You'll be having tutoring sessions with Mr. Stilinski who has kindly offered to help savage your grade point average. For free." Mrs. McCall crossed her arms over her chest and glared. "You won't refuse his kind offer, will you, Scott?"

"M–Mom!"

"Will. You. Scott?" She glared at him sharply.

Scott flinched. "Of course not!"

She turned her glare to look at Isaac who shrunk back. "I'll be going!"

Mrs. McCall smiled. "What do you say to Mr. Stilinski?"

"Thank you!" they said together quickly.

Stiles let out a chuckle and turned to look at Isaac. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Isaac nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay now."

"Okay, good. I guess I'll head on out. Just a quick question–how bad is  it to owe Coach Finstock a favor?"

All of the teenagers stared at him in muted horror.  Scott paled. "You didn't."

"Alright then, I guess I may have just sold my soul."

"Oh, if only it was your soul you'd sold," Jackson muttered under his breath, he let out a pained grunt as Isaac and Scott both elbowed him in the stomach. He wheezed. "It's true, though."

Stiles groaned. "I've been in this town for less than a week and I've already made a deal with a strange man. I should've paid attention to those stranger danger videos. Oh my God, if dad finds out about this he'll put in a safe padded room. In a bubble."  He flinched as his phone vibrated. He reached into his pocket and winced once he read the flashing screen. Stiles quickly accepted the call, his voice cracking as he moved away from the others, walking towards the hospital's exit. "Hey, Dad,  Daddy–O, father of mine, how can your spawn be of service?"

_".....What the hell did you do?"_

"I didn't blow anything up! I mean–Nothing, why do you think I've done something? It's been three days, don't you trust me?"

_"Your voice cracked kid and you're about six years too late for it to be puberty. I never trusted you to keep out of trouble."_

"Do you hear that? It was the sound of fragile delicate heart shattering."

_"Do you hear that? It's the sound of all the people sobbing at your performance."_

Stiles grinned. "Well played father, well played."

_"Remember kid I'm responsible for half your genes."_

He laughed. "I always thought mom was the funnier one."

_"Ha, your sense of humor comes from me; your little thrill seeker side comes from your mother."_

"What can I say? Mom knew how to have fun."

 _"You mean she knew how to drive me mad."_ John's tone warm and fond, tinted gray with remorse and sadness.

Stiles' quickly blinked, his vision blurring. He cleared his throat. "Someone has to, I don't think the world could stand a sane John Stilinski, you'd probably be an accountant or a tax auditor."

_”Don't even joke about that Stiles."_

"That is why, my dear father, I have taken on the responsibility to make your life more interesting and healthier."

 _"The last part didn't need to be added."_ John paused and sighed. _"Stiles, whatever it is you've started can you stay away from it?"_

Stiles turned to look over his shoulder, watching Isaac's bashful smile and Scott's warm grin. The care free smiles and joyful laughs. Something that needed to be protected."I don't think I can." His eyes strayed to Derek, who stood still, his gaze focused on him. Stiles stared back. Wh—

_"Stiles?"_

"What?" He shook his head. "Sorry what did you say?"

_"Where's your attention kid?"_

"I saw something sexy–hot–no! I meant something distracting!" Stiles' cheeks heated as he spluttered.

 _"I bet it was distracting.”_ Oh God, his dad was smirking. John let out a laugh. _"I'm glad someone has caught your attention at least, maybe you'll be too distracted to do anything too stupid...Stiles can you promise me that you'll be careful?"_

"If you promise to stick to your diet and take care of yourself, we have a deal."

_"That's all I'm asking. Kid, I've got to go. Stay safe."_

"Stick to your diet, remember I have eyes everywhere, deputy."

_"You remember that the cops in that town of yours happen to know your old man and won't hesitant to report anything, anything Stiles. Love you, kid."_

Stiles smiled. "Love you too, dad." He stared down at his phone for a few seconds before he put it back in his pocket. He resumed walking towards the door and offered a fleeting glance over his shoulder. Derek Hale steadily stared right back. Stiles quickly snapped his head around. He wasn't even sure Derek had blinked the entire time he'd  been looking at him. Creepy. Stiles quickly walked towards the exit, sparing another glance behind him and–he was still staring. Unblinking. Okay, and now it was time to leave. He picked up his pace and left the hospital.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As his hand touched the cold handle of  his car door, he paused, stiffening as cold soaked into him, tiny nerve pinpricks buzzed to life under his skin. His body tensed, his hand tightening around the handle.

Stiles licked his lips and shook his head. He was just on edge after spending so much time at the hospital.  He squared his shoulders and opened his door and got in and drove away.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Beyond the paved road where nature made its presence known, where the woods thickened and grew and darkness reined, lips pulled back into a haunting smile. " _I found him_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER!!!!! So tell me my dear readers did you enjoy this update?


	5. No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading week! I have survived half a semester! *Cries in joy* Here you are my lovely readers, enjoy! And look forward to three chapters for An Alpha's Trust coming up, very soon. : P
> 
> Betaed by kittiekatt who honestly is very skilled at what she does, she's managed to edit three chapters and maybe a fourth. Thank you! : 3

**Welcome to Beacon Hills**

**Chapter 5: No More**

Stiles roughly scrubbed his eyes, tears gathering in the corners as he yawned. He felt horrible, worse than the time he had to pull all nighters back in university. Continuously. For a week.

He didn't understand. He stiffened as his neck chilled, ice prickles digging their way into his skin, cold steeped into him, down to his bones. He rubbed his arms trying to warm himself, there it was again. He'd wake up some nights to this feeling of cold, of danger. And it didn't just happen in his house–it happened when he was driving, while he was teaching! Even when he was eating! He let out a sigh as the feeling began to ebb away. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. Could it just be the murders getting to him? The town?

Stiles frowned. No, that couldn't be it. He'd grown up around gruesome case files, had even crashed a few crime scenes. He wasn't the type to get...paranoid? Worried? Scared?

No. None of those words fit whatever was happening. This feeling, it was like a warning, as if his body was telling him that something was going to happen, something that posed a danger to him, but what was it?

He let out another yawn, his jaw cracking loudly. Shit. He needed caffeine. He reached out to open his cupboard, pulling out the canister that contained his life essence for the past few days, the can that held the nectar of the gods. Seriously he could **_not_** survive without it.

So what if he broke his promise to his dad about no caffeine? Probably one of the first things he had asked him not to do, in addition to not getting arrested, but he stressed the caffeine thing more than the not getting arrested part or into trouble. He cringed, feeling a little guilty, but not guilty enough to not drink it though, because _come on_ , he'd done way worse, waaay worse. It was the only reason he had been functioning recently! His dad would understand...well, he'd never find out about it anyway.

Stiles opened it and reached down to scoop up an extra helping, because he could, okay. He paused and blinked.

No.

This couldn't be happening.

 His hand uselessly grabbed at air, he franticly pushed it deeper, touching the bottom of the cold jar of disappointment and lies. He peeked inside only to see his reflection staring back at him, heartbroken. He frowned.

Woooah.

 He looked like shit. Worse than that actually.

 The skin underneath his eyes was a swollen shade of ashy gray, bits of purple and blue thrown in. If his dad saw him now he'd be out in town firing away. He looked as if he'd gotten into a bar fight and had both his eyes punched out, not to mention how much paler his skin looked. He'd always assumed that there was no way he could be paler than he already was, but apparently he was wrong. He wasn't even sure the kind of white he currently was could even be classified as a shade of white anymore, it was that pale.

Stiles stared for a few seconds longer and scowled, angrily tossing the metal can into the trash. He smirked a little in satisfaction at the hollow cry it gave. He tossed his jacket on and grabbed his wallet and keys, quickly shrugging on his messenger bag. He was sure that this town had a coffee place, what town didn't? He'd just go and hunt one down. Hell he'd drive to the next town in they didn't have one. He **would not** start his day without coffee.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles let out a sigh of relief as he saw the neon flashing sign. So yes, this town did have a coffee shop, no need to drive to the next town it seemed. He quickly parked his jeep and got out, so distracted that he didn't even notice the black sleek car parked snugly next to him. As he entered, he almost let out a happy squeal. Almost. It was empty! No line! He didn't even care if he'd used up his life's worth of luck. He quickly approached the bored barista and opened his mouth. "I'd liked a–"

"Can I have one hot chocolate and a black coffee?" He turned to look at the lane next to him and blinked slowly. There stood Derek Hale, scowling. Perhaps scowling wasn't the right word. Glaring with the intent of bodily harm maybe, murder a definite possibility.

 The female barista smiled unpleasantly, her hot pink, glossed lips pulling back. "Sorry, sir we don't have either of those items currently."

Stiles narrowed his eyes and frowned. She was lying and judging by the way Derek's scowl darkened, he knew it too. The darker haired man clenched his hands by his sides, and gritted his teeth together harshly. Before he could explode, Stiles quickly spoke. "Can I get one hot chocolate, one black coffee, and a triple triple with a shot of espresso? Oh, and can you toss in a few of those muffins?"

She smiled. "Of course, sir." She went to get his order ready, and Stiles turned to look at Derek and smiled, nodding his head a little.

 Once the barista came back and handed Stiles his order, giving him back his change, he smiled coldly. "Next time you lie and refuse to serve a customer, I'll take it up with your boss. I'm sure he wouldn't find your behaviour acceptable. Since Derek is a paying customer, and I'm sure your boss loves paying customers, your refusal to serve him may even get you fired, so take this as a warning. Next time serve him, do you understand me?" Her cheeks burned in mortification as she quietly nodded, the boy next to her snickered as he wiped down the counter.  Stiles glared at her for a few seconds longer and turned to look at Derek, smiling. He nodded his head toward the seating area. "Care to join me?" Derek's lips quirked upwards and walked towards the couches.  Stiles turned to look back at the girl and narrowed his eyes. She avoided his gaze and fiddled with her apron. The boy next to her grinned and nodded his head at him.

Stiles sat down and handed Derek his coffee, placing the holder on the table beside them. "That happen to you a lot?"

"Sometimes," he muttered as he reached down to open his cup. "It's a small town. These things happen. Once it gets out that you were arrested, even if the chargers were dropped, they tend to judge and be wary, more so when they think you killed your own sister."

Stiles let out a snort. "People are idiots;  judging is usually all they can do, creating as many rumors as they can about your life, really absurd ones at that."

Derek looked up. "Speaking from past experience?"

"Lots." He leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes. His body hurt, every inch of his body throbbed, exhausted and drained, never in his life had he experienced this type of weariness.

The black haired man frowned, his eyes taking in the other's appearance, skirting over his face, taking in the bruised eyes and pale skin. "You look–"

"Like crap? Shit? Death? Like I belong in a crypt? Mortuary?" he finished as he cracked an eye open to look at the man before him.

"I was going to say bad, ill, not well."

Stiles gave him a tired smile. "Aren't you the gentlemen."

Derek's frowned deepened. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

"I–" He let out a huff and leaned forward dropping his head into his hands.

"What?"

"I don't know if it's this town getting to me or I'm actually going crazy but for the past few weeks it's like I'm being watched, as if I'm a pinned butterfly in a glass case and it's just put me on edge because **_something_ ** is going to happen, and it's **_not_** going to be good."

He narrowed his eyes. "How long has been this going on? When did it start?"

"The day I came back from the hospital, the day of Isaac's checkup. As soon as I hit the parking lot and went to my jeep, it started then and it's been going on ever since."

The Hale stiffened and clenched his jaw, a low growl emitting from his throat.

Stiles quickly looked up and blinked. "Did you just?"

"What?" Derek's eyebrow rose.

His mouth fell open and quickly closed. "Did you just **_growl_**?"

The dark haired man stared blankly. "Growl?"

"Yeah, the thing dogs do."

Derek scowled darkly. "Dogs?"

"So touchy, wolves, then, does that suit your sensitive nature? If not, canines? Lupus? Lýkos? What doesn't offend your delicate sentiments?"

"You know Latin and Greek?"

"Of course, I'm the World Mythology teacher, if I didn't know Latin or Greek, among other things, it would be disappointing and I would bring shame to my title if I didn't know those two languages. Seriously, what kind of a World Mythology teacher doesn't know Latin? It's the most basic thing you _must_ know, in order to be taken seriously."

Derek's lips twitched upwards. "You're passionate about this."

"I have to be." Stiles let out a snort. "I'm a World Mythology teacher. People don't take me seriously, and this is the only way I show everyone how serious I am."

"It's working. Isaac's actually doing the work you assign and sometimes he'll look for books and other resources. It's the same with Scott, and he'd never _willingly_ touch a book, regardless of  whether it was a required reading. I've even seen Erica pick up one of the books Isaac bought. Boyd keeps his in his bag and he'll take it out whenever anyone is being annoying. Jackson, I'm not sure about, but I've seen him glance over Isaac's or Scott's shoulders to follow along. It is working. They are taking you seriously."

Stiles smiled. "That's great, now if I could get the rest of them interested in their other subjects we might make progress."

"Good luck with that, at least Isaac and Scott are reading."

The light haired man frowned. "Wait, why are you hanging out with teenagers in the first place?"

Derek scowled. "How old do you think I am?"

"30."

His scowl deepened. "I'm 24."

"You're only two years older than me?!"

"Yes," he gritted out, "and they hang out with me because they want to, no other reason. Hell I try to kick most of them out, only for them to break right back in."

Stiles bit his lip grinning. "It's Scott who does it, isn't it?"

"Who else would it be?"

"Ah ha! I knew it!" He smiled and let out a laugh. Derek stared rapt, watching the way his face opened up, the way he laughed, the way his lips pulled back into a smile, joyful and free.

He wiped his eyes and gasped, his smile faltered, falling entirely as he blinked, trying to blink away the black edging his vision. He gripped his head, hissing. It hurt so much. His temple throbbed and pulsed under his fingertips, beating against his fingers. He clenched his eyes shut, so tight that water gathered from the pressure. Derek sprang up and quickly kneeled in front of the younger man. "Stiles? Stiles what's wrong?"

"H–Hurts. Fuck. It hurts." Stiles curled into himself deeper, trying to make it stop. He dug his fingers into the side of his head.

The darker haired man reached out and grasped his shoulder, easing him out from his protective ball. "Stiles? I can make it stop, but you need to let me."

Stiles looked up at him through his blurry vision, and slowly nodded.

Derek nodded and reached out, gently touching his forehead and massaging his temple. A few seconds later, the pain stopped and Stiles collapsed forward, slumping into Derek's form. He let out a weak laugh. "I didn't think you were a masseur," he muttered weakly into Derek's chest.

"I'm not."

"So...magic hands?" Stiles questioned sleepily.

"Maybe."

"So, I'm just going to lose consciousness in a totally manly way now, okay?"

"You mean faint?"

"Lose consciousness in a manly way," he said as he slumped forward entirely. Derek quickly placed his arms around him, his eyes drifted over to the forest line, his eyes flashing for a second as his grip tightened on the slumped figure in his arms.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles pulled the blanket tighter around him, rubbing his face against the pillows. It smelled nice, spicy like cinnamon, but warm, a comfy warm, dozing in the sun kind of warm in the spring. He hadn't slept so well in so long, it was good. So good. So why the fuck were there whispers? Ruining this for him!

_"Is he okay?"_

_"He's just sleeping."_

_”So he's not dead, right? Because I actually like him."_

He let out a groan and snuggled himself deeper into his blanket. "Shut up, why are you so loud?"

"Mr. Stilinski!" Stiles frowned in his sleep. What? He cracked open one eye and glanced around. Isaac and Scott immediately brightened and jumped closer to him. Scott grinned. "How are you feeling?"

"My brain isn't trying to blow its way out of skull anymore." He shifted and looked around the room. "I see everyone is here...where is here exactly?"

"My loft."

Stiles whirled around looked at the corner near the window where Derek was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "So I'm guessing after I lost consciousness in a totally manly fashion, you brought me here?"

"Yes, after you fainted–"

" _Lost consciousness in a manly manner_."

"You mean after you faint–"

" _Lost consciousness in a manly, masculine way_ ," Stiles hissed as he glared.

Derek stared, unimpressed, one eyebrow lifted. He smirked. "After you _fainted_ , I brought you back to my loft. You just ended sleeping for most of the day."

The teacher huffed. "I did not faint, but thank you for breaking my fall and not leaving me to die on the cold streets where the vultures and wolves would have picked my skinny body clean."

"You were in a coffee shop."

"Did you see the way that girl glared at me? She would have gone and brought those vultures and wolves just to watch them pick me clean. So anyway thank you. Now I'm just going to go back to my house now and sleep for another week or so." He shifted to get out of the comforter.

" **No**."

Stiles paused and blinked. "Excuse me?"

Lydia glared at Derek harshly and turned to look at her teacher, smiling widely. "What Derek meant was, you might as well sleep here. You're obviously sleep deprived, so it wouldn't be safe to let you drive or walk home since you might just collapse again or get hit by a car."

"But it's highly unprofessional for me to sleep over at a student's house, and I'm pretty sure I'd get fired for that."

"Oh, no worries. I'm going to be sleeping over at Scott's house today," Isaac quickly said.

Scott frowned and turned to look at Isaac. "You–" He let out a grunt and clutched his stomach, Erica narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, he totally is. We're going to order pizza and stay up all night watching movies, we've planned this for months. Isaac and me. Yup, totally happening," he wheezed.

"But–"

"Sleep," Derek ordered as he pushed him down onto the bed. "Then you can leave in an hour or two, alright?"

"I really don't–"

"Bye Mr. Stilinski!" Isaac exclaimed as he shoved Scott out the door. Boyd nodded silently in goodbye and left, Erica following after him. All of his students waved in retreat as they left.

Stiles blankly stared at the door, what the fuck had just happened?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Derek closed the door behind him and turned to look at his pack. He nodded down to the living area downstairs. Once everyone had settled, he spoke. "It wants him now."

"Why? Why him? He just got here. He shouldn't have anything to do with things like this!" Scott said, harshly, his hands clenching into fists by his side.

"It doesn't matter where he came from or when he got here, nothing in this town discriminates about who to kill. Stop getting so emotional. We need to figure out a way to make sure he stays safe," Lydia muttered.

Scott deflated. "But he's such a nice person, I don't want him to get hurt or worse."

Allison smiled sadly and rubbed his back. "I know. We all know that, Scott."

He leaned into her and buried his head into her neck. "Too many people die this town, we've failed too many times already, it keeps piling on and on, I don't think I can take it anymore. I don't want him, or anyone to become the next target, to become someone that I couldn't save," he whispered softly.

Everyone fell silently.

Derek spoke up. "He won't be." They turned to look at their alpha. Derek looked at each and every one of them. "This time, we _will_ protect him. There will be no more deaths."

One after another they nodded in determination, resolute in their vow, they would protect this one. He would _not_ die. 


	6. More Than Once?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by kittiekatt who seriously is one of best things to happen to me, honestly speaking this story gets better because she is there to edit. : )
> 
> Also thanks to my best friend Dances-like-flames for being there to talk to, and letting me bounce ideas off and helping me put this together, the last little bit is for you ; ) and she's on this ship now! SHE'S A STEREK SHIPPER! *Fist pumps*
> 
> Sidenote, I've been debating to do a prompt thing for all of you guys, as a thank you for sticking with me once things settle down around here, final exams are around the corner, actually. I'm almost free! So, would you guys like that?

**Welcome to Beacon Hills**

**Chapter 6: More Than Once?**

Stiles glanced over his class, his eyes narrowing as they drifted over to the students near the back. He walked towards the slumbering teens and bent down to look first at the shaggy haired head nestled in arms on the desk. His mouth slightly open, a small puddle of drool formed underneath it, little snores coming out of his mouth. Stiles turned to look at the desk next to him. Curls of blond peeked out from inside black leather clad arms, his back rising steadily every few seconds. In front of them, another student slept, more gracefully than her counter parts. One of her hands propped her head up, one leg crossed over the other. Damn, she had skill. Seriously, not a smudge of makeup or a hair out of place. The others slept fitfully around them

The teacher looked at all of them, their faces relaxed, the way Scott's lips smacked together in his sleep, the way Jackson's brow burrowed down, it was adorable. They all looked so peaceful and cute only a heartless monster would ever consider waking them up.

He was _so_ going to enjoy this.

He smirked as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He glanced around at the rest of the class and pressed a finger to his lips as he grinned. He increased the phone's volume to its maximum, his eyes skirting over them. He tapped his phone against his chin in thought. Now, who would bear the blunt of this?  His eyes settled on Jackson, his smirk widening.

Stiles walked until he was right next to Jackson and bent down, putting his phone as close as he could to Jackson's ear and pressed play. A loud screeching shrill blared. Now _this_ was one of the reasons he had become a teacher. His smirk widened as all of them woke immediately. Scott tumbled off his chair, landing on the floor with a loud thud. Isaac's head sprang up, his eyes wide and confused. Allison smacked her head against her desk, Danny's head snapped up, his face imprinted from the edge of his book. Lydia opened her eyes and blinked. Erica jerked awake, next to her Boyd slowly opened his eyes. But Jackson's reaction was by far the best. He awoke startled and let out a small scream, his chair tipping over. Stiles quickly reached over and grabbed it (had to make sure he didn't crack his head open). He rolled his eyes. Seriously, he couldn't even terrorize his students properly.

The blond teen looked up, his eyes wide with shock. The teacher stared back."Morning Sleeping Beauty." He turned to look at all the teens, his eyebrow raising. "Was there a clearance sale on poison apples? Did you piss off any witches? Evil Queens?" All of them turned to stare at him blankly. He scowled. "Then don't sleep in my class or the next awakening will be worse." If anyone should be sleeping it should be him! Okay, well, the last few nights weren't too bad. He actually managed to get a blissful six hours, which was honestly sooooo good. If he had gone any longer without sleep, he would have gone insane. He wasn't kidding, he so close losing it.

Jackson scowled and rubbed his ear. He could still hear damn ringing. He glared darkly at the man in front of him. Stiles rolled his eyes and went back to the front of the room. "Sleeping princesses aside," he muttered darkly, Scott sheepishly smiled and picked himself off of the ground. "Let's get back to what I was about to discuss, one of my favourite mythological creatures," he smiled, his eyes drifting over to the students in the back, " ** _werewolves_**."

Scott coughed, struggling to breathe. Allison quickly passed him her water bottle, her eyes wide, staring at their teacher. All of the teens stared at him. His eyebrow rose. "Is something wrong?"

The shaggy haired teen quickly chugged down the water, and shook his head. "Sorry, sudden coughing fit."

"Are you sure you don't need a moment?"

"I'm good," Scott said after he swallowed.

Stiles stared for few seconds longer before he turned back to address the class. "Now...werewolves. Depending on which stories you've read or seen, the most common mythology is that they're bloodthirsty, moon comes out and they get freaky and hairy, right?" Everyone nodded. Isaac let out a snort and crossed his arms over his chest, Erica rolled her eyes and slouched down in her seat. The older man blinked, his eyebrow raising. Someone was offended. "But you see, every tale has variations. Some believe the change can be controlled at will, that the moon has a pull to it, yes, but given enough time, given enough control, they can fight back against it and win. There are born wolves, men who are both wolves and man. Then there are the bitten, men made into wolves. Some say there is a hierarchy, that at the top is the alpha, the strongest. Then there are betas, the followers. They are a pack, a family in such a sense that it surpasses the human concept of family. The bond that these packs share is so strong that the pain of one is felt by all. They aren't bloodthirsty monsters unless they choose to be, just like humans. They aren't things to fear, in fact, some would say that humans are the true monsters. That there is nothing more grotesque, nothing more vile, or heartless than man."

"Do you really believe that?"

He turned to look at one of the students near the back and smiled. "Sometimes, it's hard not to, isn't it?" His eyes drifted over the room as he spoke. "Monsters are monsters, what they do is expected, but what about man? What excuse do we have for the things we do? For the murders we commit against each other in the name of religion, in the name of freedom, over a few words uttered against each other? For allowing the suffering of others? Turning a blind eye, closing our ears, refusing to speak out against things we know are wrong? Monsters are monsters, it's in their nature, but what about man?" The students all stared, frozen. The bell rung sharply, startling them out of their trance. He looked around and waved to them, dismissing them as he turned to his desk.

Stiles hummed to himself as he gathered his things. The werewolf theory was starting to seem more and more plausible, from Scott's reaction, to Isaac and Erica's offended attitude; not to mention the stares he had gotten from the rest. It could just be teenage attitude, but that wouldn't be fun, now would it? He shrugged on his bag and turned, ready to leave. Stiles blinked. "What the Hell are any of you still doing here? Class is over, all of you should be breaking out, running out of here in happiness to be free from, dare I say it? Education. The knowledge that teachers try to drill into your heads. Come on, get going. Go and rejoice, party, come on, get going."

Slowly all of the students left, still dazed, his words ringing in their heads. He frowned. What happened to all of them?

-.-.-.-.-.-

Jackson scowled as he walked down the hallway. "For someone we're protecting I'm starting to think it's not a bad idea to let him die."

Scott frowned. "You'd feel bad if that happened."

"That was before he fucking put his phone to my ear," he grumbled darkly.

"Do you think he knows?" Isaac whispered under this breath.

Lydia's eyes snapped over to him. "It wouldn't be surprising considering how well all of you hide everything."

"Normally people wouldn't assume the first answer to be werewolves, Lydia," Danny said as he stopped at his locker, twisting the combination.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she looked him. "In case you haven't noticed, he isn't _normal_. In fact, he's far from it."

"But even so, Danny is right. No sane person would even think that werewolves are real," Jackson said, leaning on the locker next to Danny's.

"And if he does, then what?"

"He hasn't tried to kill us with silver, I think we're good," Boyd deadpanned.

"What is the silver thing about anyway? It's not like it does anything." Scott frowned. "I can touch my mom's silverware and my hand doesn't burn."

"It only works when it enters your bloodstream, it helps to spread the wolfsbane even faster, so normally you'll be fine touching silver but if you're shot with a bullet or an arrow, well..." Allison smiled as she shrugged, "Better hope you have the right type of wolfsbane handy."

The werewolves all blinked. Isaac whispered to his side, his eyes still on Allison, "You better be careful, she can actually kill you. She knows how."

Scott swallowed, paling slightly.

Erica let out a snort. "She was dangerous even before. She knows how to handle guns and bows, she just got more dangerous because she knows you're a werewolf, so there's more she can do to you now." She smiled and clapped him on the back. "Don't break her heart."

He paled even further.

Jackson smirked. "Better be careful, McCall."

"That's funny coming from you."

The blond glared. "What's that supposed to mean, Lahey?"

Isaac smiled sweetly. "Considering all Lydia has to do is _look_ at you and you reek of fear." He let out a laugh.

Erica cracked up. "Oooh, nice one!"

They high fived each other.

Jackson's eyes narrowed further. "I'm going to throw you across the field into the net, Lahey. You're about to become a personal lacrosse ball."

"At least you'd finally have some balls," Isaac said as he laughed even harder.

Danny's shoulders shook silently in amusement. Boyd stared at Jackson, his eyes shining in amusement. Allison covered her mouth and laughed into her hand, next to her Scott grinned as he chuckled. Erica's eyes filled with tears as she grabbed her stomach. "Now, that was a good one!"

Jackson let out a growl. "I'm going to pound you!" He sprang forward trying to grab the beta. Isaac quickly side stepped him.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "If you two are done, can we proceed?" Both of the betas paused and turned to look at her. She stared unimpressed.  Jackson grumbled but released Isaac's head and shoved him away from himself. Isaac let out a huff and fixed his jacket. "We need to figure out how to keep him in the school next week."

Scott frowned. "Derek's talking to Deaton and trying to figure out how to get rid of whatever this thing is, we just need to keep making sure nothing happens to him until they come up with a plan."

She let out a sigh. "But how much longer can we keep doing this? Staking out his house isn't practical anymore, we've been keeping an eye on him for this past week, and it's starting to show. I'm starting to have bags under my eyes. Me." She pointed to herself. "Me. Lydia Martin."

The shaggy haired teen leaned closer and squinted. He frowned. "Really? Because I don't see anything."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Makeup Scott. I'm wearing makeup."

He blinked. "Woah, it's hiding it really well then, because I can't tell you have bags!"

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Moving on. We should do alternating shifts from now, on, so at least we get to sleep sometime. Next week we'll need to figure out who stays with him during his break and those who will patrol at night. The rest will get to sleep."

"I'll patrol," Scott said seriously.

Isaac nodded. "I'll go with him."

"SLEEP!" Danny, Allison, and Erica said in unison.

Boyd shrugged. "I'm fine with either really."

Lydia nodded. "First night goes to Isaac and Scott, the second will go to Danny and Erica, Allison and Boyd get the one after that and Jackson and me will take the last, and the cycle will repeat. But the lucky one who has to distract Mr. Stilinski next week is Jackson."

"What? Why me?!"

"Because everyone else will be sleeping, and there is only so many times we can use Scott as an excuse to keep Mr. Stilinski here, because even Scott isn't that stupid."

Scott shrugged. "I'm learning things. He's really helpful and he doesn't make me feel bad about not knowing things. He's really nice."

Jackson blandly stared at his friend. "Stop gushing McCall, I'm not going to ask for help." He crossed his arms over his chest and sneered. "I don't need help."

Lydia smiled sharply. "Don't you have an English essay to do?"

"I–" His eyes widened. "Oh, shit."

She patted his cheek. "I'm not helping you with it this time, so good luck." Lydia turned and walked down the hallway, her skirt moving as her heels clacking distantly. Jackson stared blankly at her retreating figure.

Allison smiled  in sympathy and shrugged, following after her friend.

Isaac snorted and shoved his hands into his pockets, walking away. Erica grinned and offered him a wave as she threaded her arm with Boyd's and dragged him away. Danny closed his locker. The sharp sound snapping him out of his daze, Jackson quickly turned to look at him. "You'll help me right?! You know how bad I am at English! And this is worth a major part of my grade, you'll help right?!" He grabbed Danny's shoulders tightly, desperate.

Danny winced. "About that..."

The blond stared. "What?"

"You know I would, but I've got back to back projects this week and I just don't have the time," he said as he gently eased out of the werewolf's grip and picked up his backpack from the ground. "I'm sorry, Jackson. I can't help you." The blond beta stared after his best friend as he walked down the hallway.

Scott smiled. "Don't worry, Jackson, Mr. Stilinski will help you for sure!"

-.-.-.-.-.-

His vision blurred, the images before him twisting and merging, nothing focused, everything distorted and disfigured. He clenched his eyes shut, the weight of his eyes heavy behind his eyelids, the pain sharp as it dug into his sockets. Scott opened his eyes and quickly blinked, tears gathering from the strain. He shook his head and returned his focus to the house in front of him, his gaze trained on the single source of light that glowed out from behind the shrouded window.

"What do you think he's doing?" Isaac muttered as he fiddled with a stray stick, tracing figures into the dirt.

The shaggy haired teen shrugged. "I don't know, but, he's been at it for hours." He frowned. "It can't be healthy."

"Neither is not sleeping." Isaac snapped the stick in his fingers and flung it away. He stood and looked up at the sky. His eyes trained on the moon and flashed for a second. He turned to look at his friend. "Do you think anything we do will make a difference this time?"

"It has to."

Isaac stared at Scott for a few seconds and nodded. "It will."

Scott smiled back,  looking down at his hands. His eyes dimmed. "I can't take much more Isaac."

"You don't have to Scott, this isn't just yours, it's ours. You're not alone, none of us is, you should know that better than anyone else."

He turned to look at his friend. Isaac offered him a small smile and plopped down next to him. He knocked his shoulder against him and turned to look back up at the sky. Scott shook his head and knocked him back, grinning. He turned his attention back to the window. "But, seriously, what is he doing?" Isaac questioned.

"Teacher things?"

"What are teacher things?"

Scott shrugged and smiled, happy and bright. "I don't know but I bet they are amazing! I mean he teaches us so many cool things! And the things he says, Isaac, aren't they great?! They just make you think, and he doesn't make you feel like you're stupid or that you aren't worth his time. He stays with me, with us, after school just to help us go over the materials from our pervious classes not because he has to, but because he wants to. I've never had a teacher like that, you know?"

Isaac nodded. "I know what you mean, I actually like coming to school. Someone who goes out of his way to do things just because, it's weird, different," he smiled, "but nice."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles blinked and frowned. Why was it suddenly so much brighter? He slowly looked around, streams of light flittered through the curtains, brightening the room, dust particles becoming visible as they drifted. A streak of sunlight shone on him, warming his skin as it touched him, a calm buzzing spreading through him. Woah, when had the sun risen? He glanced down at the clock on his desk, wait when had become seven am? Hours had gone by? What? He looked back down at his laptop, at least now he knew the entire history of male circumcision, which was cringe worthy in some areas and in others it was really cool, seriously it was cool and disgusting. He had an affinity for things like that, the stranger and more gruesome, the more engrossed he became. His dad would usually sigh when he got like that and physically drag him away. Stiles grinned, his dad would take the desk chair and roll him down the hallway and then kick him out, so he'd go to class. He shook his head and shut down his computer and stumbled over to his bed, falling flat on his face. He pulled the comforter around himself as he drifted off, thank God it was the weekend.

 -.-.-.-.-.-

His back bent low, his head bowed down as his eyes drifted from word to word, the highlighter in his hand twitched every so often. The page before him a bright yellow, barely any word without a yellow streak through it, the cap dangled from his mouth, fingers smudged yellow with the ink. Stiles' head snapped up, as he heard a sharp knock. He blinked.

Jackson Whittemore stood near the threshold, his face a cloud of dark fury as he scowled. His grip tightening on his backpack, his mouth twitched as he tried to open it, his scowl darkened even further as he closed his mouth. Stiles narrowed his eyes, what did the little shit want? He took the highlighter cap out of his mouth and capped it. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the blond.

A few seconds passed, Jackson looking increasingly uncomfortable, Stiles made no move to help because come on, this was fun. If you couldn't harass the kids, the little shitty ones, couldn't make them a little bit uncomfortable, what was the point? He grinned. He was going to enjoy this. So, so much. Jackson gritted his teeth. "You said we were free to come by when we..." his mouth twitched, the words sharp and painful on his tongue, they seared his mouth.

Stiles' grin widened. "When?"

Jackson glared, his knuckles turning white. "When we needed..." his lips twitched, "he–" he closed his mouth. "He–"

"Yes?"

He scowled, he fucking hated his friends."You said that if we needed help we could come here."

"I did." Stiles' grin was shit eating as he smiled, leaning his chin into his hands. Jackson's glare was venomous and dark. Too bad looks couldn't kill, because he was going to drag this out. "Well?"

The blond's face grew darker. "Can I come inside?"

Stiles shrugged. "Come on in."

Jackson walked until he was standing in front of the older man. He glanced down at the textbook in front of his teacher. Stiles looked down at the desk and looked back up at Jackson. The blond stared. This man was going to help him? "Did you just want to deface a chemistry textbook?"

"Mainly I'm doing this to piss off Harris."

"...How did you even get a textbook?"

"I stole it."

"Aren't teachers supposed to be morally good?"

"Probably, but Harris is a dick so I don't feel bad."

Jackson stared and shook his head. "I need help, can you help me?"

Stiles nodded and shoved the book out of the way. "Pull up a chair and we'll get started."

The blond pulled over a chair from a nearby desk and placed it next to the teacher. He placed his backpack on the ground and sat down.

Seconds ticked by. Stiles rolled his eyes. "If you want my help, I'm going to need to know what you need help with."

"English is my worst subject, I'm barely passing and I have an essay due soon that could save my grade."

Stiles nodded. "Alright, so what's the topic?"Jackson crossed his arms over his chest and slouched down in his seat. "Jackson?"

 The Jackson's face twisted into disgust. " ** _Love_**." The word wrenched out of his mouth as if it was a disgusting, vile thing.

Oookay then. "What about love?"

"I'm supposed write an essay on what it is."

"So, what's the problem then?"

"The problem is McCall thinks it's like a damn Disney movie. That the world is suddenly brighter and full of rainbows and puppies, and that's what my English teacher wants me to write, and love isn't that!"

Stiles leaned back in his chair. "So, what is it?"‏

Jackson scowled. "It's painful, it hurts and there are days when you want to strangle each other. It's not a Disney movie, it's not McCall's love. Where all he sees is Allison, how she's perfect. At least he's gotten better, he was even more annoying in the beginning. I honestly thought he'd die because he'd forget to breathe because he'd be too busy staring at her. McCall's love makes me physically sick. He _moons_. I didn't think mooning was an actual thing but McCall does it!"

"That's Scott's view of love, what's yours?"

"Love is supposed to be this thing where the other person is just as bad as you are, but actually makes you decent. It's ugly and violent and flawed. It isn't perfect and there are times when being in love with someone is the last thing you want to be. You have days where you consider moving to another state, or different country just to escape. It's compromise, it's watching the Notebook again when you _really_ , _really_ don't want to. It's meeting the one person who loves you despite being something that can't be loved, something that's ugly and disgusting. It's meeting someone who risks everything just to make sure you're okay. Risks everything to prove to you that they still love you, even when you don't deserve it, even if you aren't worth it, even if you aren't worth anything. Love can be  both pure and tainted, at the same time _that's_ what love is. "

Stiles' eyebrow rose. "You've watched the Notebook? More than once?"

Jackson stared. "Really? That's what you take from that?...You don't say no to Lydia Martin."

The teacher let out a snort. "I can see that," he muttered. Jackson narrowed his eyes. Stiles grinned. "Alright, do your essay on that."

"I can't. Weren't you listening?"

"I was. The essay topic is what is love, and love is different for everyone. Scott's may be what you said, and yours as well. Love doesn't have to mean the same thing for you as it does for Scott. Love is something that can't be defined by one single person, and if you honestly think that can be then you haven't experienced love, the different forms of it, the different types." Stiles leaned forward and met Jackson's gaze. "Jackson, don't for one second think that your view of love is wrong, and if anyone makes you think it is, then they are the ones that are wrong. Your view of love is right don't let anyone tell you any different, and if your teacher says your essay is wrong, tell her to bring it to me, because I will make sure you get the mark you deserve.  So get started alright? I'll be here if you need help." Stiles smiled softly.

Jackson stared at the man before him. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you aren't wrong and I won't have one of my students feel as if there is something wrong with him, wrong with his view point just because it doesn't match the teacher's. I won't have any of my students feel as if they are defective, or ridiculed for something like that. It isn't right and I won't let that happen, not to Scott, not to Isaac, and not to you, trust me on that."

He stared at his teacher, surprised. After a few seconds he slowly nodded and got out a pencil and some paper.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Jackson shouldered on his bag and walked towards the door. He stopped in the doorway, turned to face his teacher, and he cleared his throat.

Stiles looked up at him.

The blond took in a deep breath and met his gaze directly. "Thank you," he said quietly as he nodded his head and quickly left the room.

The teacher smiled softly and shook his head. At least the little shit had some manners. His phone vibrated, he glanced at his screen. He let out a curse. Shit, he'd forgotten to go grocery shopping! He quickly collected his things and sprinted out of the building. He didn't have anything left in his house. Holy shit, if he didn't buy anything, he'd starve...he had no coffee left! Or Red Vines. Or junk food. He frowned. Or any food actually...huh he really did need to go grocery shopping. He frowned. What the Hell had he been eating for this past week? He was too poor for takeout all the time, he didn't even know any takeout places...he did remember to eat right? Huh. That wasn't a good thing was it?  Not remembering whether he ate or not. Yeah, he really did need to grocery shopping.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Stiles looked at the various cans in front of him and scratched his head, why were there so many brands? All tomato sauce was, was tomatoes crushed to death with a bit of salt, spices and herbs for seasoning. Seriously, murdered tomatoes with a bit of flavouring. There didn't need to be over 20 brands of murdered tomatoes! He frowned and randomly picked one and turned to toss it into his cart. "Oh my-!" The can in his hands slipped. There in front of him– _merely_ a few millimetres from him stood a man. His hair was a light brown, as his eyes gleamed in amusement, his eyes _flashed_ , the blue translucent and bright, which shouldn't be possible because eyes didn't do that!

He caught the can quickly. Stiles clutched his chest, his heart pounding underneath his fingers.

Did he mention the smile? Because Holy Shit it was creepy, maniacal and looked a bit homicidal, as in _I will meet you in a dark corner and kill you_ kind of a smile.

The older man looked down at the can in his hands and looked back up at him, his eyebrow risen. Stiles narrowed his eyes. That was an eyebrow of judgement, he was being judged. He didn't know why he was being judge–wait, there were many reasons, but rude!

"Really, I would recommend that you make your sauce from scratch. The store bought ones happen to be quite...disgusting," the man grinned and tossed the can back into the cart.  He glanced down at the other items. "Rather unhealthy, no, Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles glared. He was a grown ass man! If he wanted to, he could buy a cartload of Red Vines and Coke! "Who the Hell you are? And why do you who I am?"

"In this town, people usually leave. Only a select few..." he smiled, " ** _people_** come _into_ town, and you happen to be the only one to do so. Naturally, there would be a bit of gossip around."

The teacher stiffened. Why did it seem like he wanted to say victims? Stiles leaned further back against the shelf, the cans digging their way into  his skin. His skin chilled, something wasn't right. "Even so, that doesn't explain why you know me."

"Ah, well, a student of yours happens to be under my nephew's care, and he and his friends talk about you quite a bit so I came to welcome you."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "That still doesn't explain how you figured out that I was the teacher. Tell me, who is this student?"

The man let out a small laugh. "Suspicious, aren't you?"

"No. You just creep me out."

He let out another laugh, his eyes crinkling, the blue of his eyes lightening. "Oh, I am going to enjoy getting to know to you."

"What makes you think we're going get to know each other at all?"

"Oh, trust me, if I'm right, which I always am, we will be meeting each other very frequently. Goodbye, Stiles,  it was nice to meet you."

Stiles watched the man turn and walk away. "Totally not a nice meeting! There will be no frequently! My life goal will be to stay away from your creepy ass!"

The man paused and glanced over his shoulder. "My name is Peter. I really do hope you make it. In this town, very few do, and I hope you're one of the lucky ones." Peter offered him a charming smile. "Welcome to Beacon Hills, Mr. Stilinski." He turned and continued walking down the aisle, disappearing around the corner.

...He was going to die in this town, wasn't he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt? Yes do it? No don't? Anyone? I just want to make sure people want to do this, so it isn't a huge waste of time. *Sits and waits*


	7. Frozen Meals?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile hello! I'm not dead and updates are just really slow my beta is rather busy so updates aren't very swift but still kittiekatt managed to find time to edit this so yay! Update! Thank you! :)
> 
> Also I've been struck with so many ideas for this fandom that I'm not leaving anytime soon o_o I thought I'd be done with this fandom like soon but then BAM Sterek was like hell no and now I have so many ideas that won't be going away. So this ship ain't sailing without me. :D
> 
> So announcement I need someone to help me with porn...a porn beta? I'm not very...I just want to get better so if anyone would like to help please let me know I'm working on a oneshot that's just porn because I want to. Advice and stuff yeah.

**Welcome to Beacon Hills**

**Chapter 7: Frozen Meals?!**

Stiles quickly shook himself out of his stupor. Of course Beacon Hills had its residential potential serial killers, it was the town where the things that actually went bump in the night existed. Why not a serial killer? He shuddered and rubbed his arm. Great. Now he'd be paranoid for a while–more than he usually was. _Awesome_. Stiles sighed and glanced down at his shopping cart. Did he really want to finish shopping? His stomach answered that one for him, rather loudly. Stiles grabbed his cart and continued down the aisle. As he circled back around to the front to look at fruit, he glanced up for a second and quickly did a double take as Derek Hale and Isaac Lahey strolled in. And if anyone wondered if it's just as weird for a teacher to see their student outside of class as it is for a student, the answer is yes. A _Hell yes_.

Maybe he should duck? Hide?….Wait, Isaac being a werewolf is a definite possibility which would mean he would know that Stiles was there, might be able to smell him or something. "Isaac pick out some frozen dinners for this month, I'll go get drinks."

Stiles slowly blinked.

Isaac nodded and turned to do as he was told.

Oh no.

Oh, _Hell no_.

No way was this going to happen. Stiles reached out and grabbed the teen's collar. Isaac spun and smiled. "Hey, Mr. Stilinski. What a coincidence seeing you here." His smile dropped as he noticed his teacher's dark look. Stiles scowled and started to drag Isaac with him. "Whoa!" Isaac almost stumbled. "Mr. Stilinski?"

"Derek Hale." The man in question glanced up from the drinks in front of him. "Did the words frozen meals and month come out of your month?"

Derek opened his mouth to respond but stiffened, his brow burrowed down, his nose twitched and then something furious swept over his face. He gritted his teeth and Stiles took a little step back because that face didn't look good. Okay, he was attractive but _still_ , that face didn't spell anything good for him.

Isaac frowned and glanced between the two. He stepped a little closer to his teacher and took a discreet sniff. His eyebrows jumped. " _Oh._ "

Stiles swallowed, but he wasn't one for backing down, he was more of the "backing himself into a corner" kind of person that still kept talking in the corner and this was about Isaac's health, so, yeah he was going to keep going. "Okay, you know what? Drop that face because it's not going to make me stop talking. First of all, you did not just tell Isaac to buy frozen meals for a month because no. Second, Isaac is a growing boy, a growing boy in your care, and there is no way in Hell you are putting all that crap into his body. And I'm not going to let you put it into yours either. No. Just no." Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and stared. "So?"

"What?"

The teacher rolled his eyes and grabbed Derek's arm, pulling him along to where the vegetables were. He grabbed a tomato and shoved it under the man's nose. "This is a tomato," he shoved the tomato at Derek and grabbed a cucumber. "This is a cucumber. They are vegetables. Say it with me now, _vegetables_."

"I know what they are," Derek said as he scowled.

"Then use them. Today we are going to be shopping together because I don't trust you. I want Isaac to eat fruits and vegetables and all the other things he needs to eat, not frozen meals. Do you know how much sodium they have? Do you? Isaac isn't going to be eating any of that."

Derek glanced over at Stiles' cart and gave him a bland look. "Really? With your cart full of Coke, Red Vines and Reese's cups?"

"Everyone has bad days and when you're a teacher teaching overemotional, sex driven, angst ridden teenagers, you deserve a treat. You don't get to judge me, Hale when you just told the kid under your care to pick up frozen meals for the month."

"I'm not a kid! I'm 16."

"Too young to vote, drink, or smoke, and do drugs," he listed off his fingers, he paused, "...wait actually you aren't allowed to do drugs at all. No drugs. Kid." Stiles smirked. "I never knew how much fun it was being in a position of power. Go on Isaac, get a shopping cart, your teacher is going to make sure your little heart is healthy."

Isaac narrowed his eyes but nevertheless stomped away to do as he was told.

Stiles turned to look at Derek and sighed. "Seriously, man. You need to take care of Isaac. Don't feed him crap. He's a kid–these habits are going to last his entire life–and I know Isaac isn't a child but Derek, he is _your_ responsibility. You're all he has and he's all you have. You take care of the people that rely on you because you have to. You can't just sit there, you have to take care of them, because you don't know what's going to happen. _You don't._ " There are words swirling around him, buzzing in his head, persistent and annoying. At first it's just a white buzz but it clears and then he hears it.

 _She's dead._ What? Who is?

 _Your mother._ The whisper is sweet and poisonous, like a snake tongue that flicks against his skin.

The voice is vile. _She's dead and you couldn't do anything for her, you've left your father in a town where he won't take care of himself._ The words are sharp and jagged and keep attacking _he'll die too, just like her._ The voice swirls around him, cold and ruthless, _he's going to die,_ laughter that shimmers and cuts sounds in his head _, just like her._ The voice wants him to fall and his thoughts swirl down with it, helpless to do anything else.

His mom had gotten sick and no one knew when it happened and then she was gone. Now his dad has to watch his cholesterol levels or he's going to have a heart attack and he might be gone too, or something could happen at work and–he'd be all alone, there would be no one. _He wouldn't have anyone. His dad isn't Superman, he's human, so human._ There's a tremor starting to work its way up his body that he isn't aware of, but Derek is, can see the minute, tiny, barely there quiver. Stiles' heart rate is starting to scale and there's a scent that's starting to sting and burn his nose. It's fear and anxiety mixed up and coiled into something threatening to consume Stiles. He's unsure of what's happening or what to do, but Stiles shouldn't smell like that.

 _He doesn't want to be alone,  to lose the last thing he has. He doesn't want his dad to leave him. He doesn't want to be alone. Someone help, please someone he–_ Suddenly there's a hot band around his arm and it draws Stiles back. He blinks and all he can see is Derek frowning at him, but there's something there in his eyes, in that weird color pool that has a mix of every eye color in the world, it's like the universal whirlpool of eye color. What is it? Worry? Why is he worried? It's not like he's having a–Oh. _Oh shit._

His ears pop, and the voice is clear and loud and concerned."Stiles? Stiles are okay?"

Stiles quickly swallowed and reached out to grab Derek's shirt pulling himself closer to the other man and tried to calm down. "S-sorry. Give me a minute." Derek stiffened as hot puffs of air blew against the side of his neck but didn't move. When the tension didn't go away, he slowly placed one hand around Stiles' back and let his fingers slowly rub up and down. Derek didn't offer him any soothing words because for him, touches meant more. In a pack, touch meant everything, it meant what you wanted to say and what you couldn't. Would it work for humans? For Stiles?

Gradually the tension ebbed and the muscles underneath his fingers slowly unclenched. After another minute, Stiles let go and offered Derek a small smile as he stepped out from his hold. "Sorry, it's just, um-, okay, I get I'm probably intrusive and annoying but I do care about Isaac and the kind of life he has outside of class, he deserves to have a place where he is cared for in both emotional and physical well being and–"

Derek grabbed Stiles' arm and squeezed gently. "It's okay, Stiles. I'm not offended, alright? Are you okay?

"Yeah. I will be." Stiles bit his lip. "Can you promise me something?"

The hand around his arm didn't leave, it stayed. "What?"

"Can you promise me you'll take care of what Isaac eats? Just take better care of Isaac? I know you love Isaac and care about him, but can you try to do a better job? _Please_?"

Derek steadily stared back and slowly nodded. "Okay."

Stiles offered him a weak smile. "Thank you, it's just, I needed to hear that." As Isaac neared Stiles forced his smile to become more genuine. Derek frowned when Stiles shook off Derek's grip but said nothing. "Okay, now, fruits you like Isaac?"

Isaac looked at his teacher oddly, his eyes shifted to his guardian but when Derek shook his head, he answered absently."….Nectarines, only the white ones, and um oranges? Watermelon, I guess melons, cantaloupes, apples…bananas, pears? That's all I can think of."

Stiles nodded. "Good, I'm proud you know your fruits. Now, Derek?"

Derek's frown deepened."I'm fine with everything Isaac listed."

"Alright then, good. Vegetables? We'll need the basics tomatoes, cucumbers, spinach! Oh, they have kale! This is really good kale." Stiles quickly grabbed the bunches and wrapped them into a plastic bag tossing some into Derek and Isaac's cart as well as his own. Derek watched Stiles closely, looking for any sign that whatever had happened before would happen again. "Onions, ginger, garlic, eggplants..." Stiles stopped talking and whirled around to look at the two of them. "You do know how to cook...right?"

"I do know how to cook."

Isaac's lips pulled downwards. "If you know how to cook, how come I've been eating frozen food for a year?"

"You never asked me to cook," Derek said as he shrugged.

"Because I didn't know!" Isaac glared. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It wasn't important."

Isaac gritted his teeth."It was! Things like that are important, Derek!" There's a storm brewing in Isaac's eyes and it's threatening to devour, but there's something else to his anger and hurt, something darker, and whatever it is isn't good, not for Derek in the least. Isaac's glare turned venomous and toxic. "You know what? You're a shitty guardian. The worst, feeding me soggy dinners, do you honestly not wonder why I keep staying at Scott's house? I'll tell you why, because Scott's mom makes me warm food! Not soggy meals shoved into a microwave!"

"Isaac–"

"You know, Isaac, my dad did that a lot when I was growing up," Stiles interjected. "He didn't have time, he was always busy and working, but that didn't mean he didn't care. He was unused to the responsibility of being the one in charge of taking care of things like cooking and cleaning, and he struggled with it a lot. It was a different situation that he was unused to, he didn't know what to do, he didn't want to feed me frozen dinner or take out, but he was doing the best he could being a single father and full-time working man, who had odd hours. It was hard for him, okay?"

 Stiles' tone softened to something gentle and quiet, almost like a murmur that enchanted you, the words fluttered and touched Isaac. "Sometimes we don't see the struggles of others blinded by our own, and it's so easy to be angry and bitter, to judge because we are sightless to their pain, to their difficulties because human beings are selfish. So cruel and hurtful sometimes. But sometimes we can be better, everyone can be better, it takes work though, to see our own flaws and fix them, if not fix them at least make them so they don't hurt others. Sometimes you need to look and see more than just things we can blame, or find flaw in, it takes a little bit of effort on our part but it makes you a better human, a better person. And maybe you'll find that the struggles and hurdles that they face are yours in a different form or maybe they're new monster you've never seen. The truth is we all stumble and fall, we are all scraped, raw and bleeding, but we get up and continue, some either avoid the roads they've been on and failed, others simply don't venture on to them at all. The strongest are those that can go through a path they have failed, a path where they know they will fall again and again and be hurt numerous times but they still do it. Think about Derek's path for a second, think about it in terms of his life and then yours, see where it converges, see where it's been and where it's going, see where he's fallen and help him up, help each other up. You're family, that's what they do."

Somehow throughout Stiles' monologue Isaac's anger dissipated, his shoulders slowly untensing and he stared at his teacher listening intently.

"And you don't have to worry about things like this because Derek's going to try to step up?" He turned to look at Derek. "Right?"

Derek's eyes were frozen on Stiles, drawn by the words, unable to look away. He swallowed and forced himself away from the gaze, from the spell of Stiles' words."Yeah." He cleared his throat, swallowing. "Yeah."

Isaac turned to look at Derek. "Promise?" he questioned softly.

Derek nodded. "I'll make us Mexican tonight."

He offered with a hesitant smile. "I like Mexican food."

"I know you do," Derek said as he reached out to grab various vegetables.

Isaac stepped up next to him, watching his guardian put vegetables into the cart. He spoke after awhile. "Sorry, I didn't mean that, you aren't the worst. You aren't."

Derek smiled and ruffled Isaac's hair. "It's okay. Go get the cereal you like and oatmeal, not the instant stuff."

The teen's noise wrinkled."I don't like oatmeal."

"Pick up some fruit, like strawberries or other berries and oatmeal will be good."

"Fine," Isaac muttered as he went to look for the items he was told to.

Stiles came to stop next to Derek. "What?" he said as he checked the green pepper he was holding.

"Nothing, just nicely done."

"Thanks."

"No problem." He butted his shoulder against Derek's. "It's what friends do."

Derek's eyebrow rose. "Friends?"

"Friends."

The smile he receives after his words is beautiful, opening his face into something that actually resembled his true age. Youthful and happy and most of all, it's _real_. He knows it's real because Derek doesn't smile forcefully, where it doesn't reach his eyes, and it's not rehearsed, he can tell because it's not meant to seduce him, it's just an expression of joy and happiness. Derek looks so much better when he smiles like that. And damn, has he mentioned how ridiculously and unfairly attractive Derek is? It has to be a sin _somewhere_. I mean, come on, it has to at _least_ break some laws, he should ask his dad. Yeah he'll bring that up next phone call. Derek nodded. "Friends." And his heart isn't as heavy anymore, isn't surrounded by a thick plume of misery, and no it's not Derek's smile that does it, because once again he _isn't_ a heroine in a teen movie. But Derek has a little bit to do with it, just a little. Just a little! And Isaac. It's a mix of them that helps his heart, gets rid of the thick unease over him.

-.-.-.-.-.-

After an hour or so, once Stiles had decided that they had a decently healthy haul, they got into line and waited. Stiles glanced at Derek's and Isaac's cart and let out a snort. He picked up the box of frozen Pizza Pops and held it in front of him. "Nice try, Isaac. You're worse than my dad. At least he manages to hide it until everything is on the belt."

"I like Pizza Pops!"

"No, nope, you aren't going to be eating any of this."

Isaac crossed his arms over his chest. "How are you even going to know I'm going to listen to you?"

Stiles smirked and held out his hand. "Derek, your phone?" Once the unlocked dark phone was placed into his hand, his fingers swiped at the screen. Once he was done he handed it back to Derek and turned to look back at Isaac. "Derek's going to text me and take pictures of you eating your breakfast and dinner every morning and night. As for lunch, I'll be there. And if you don't eat healthy I'll force feed you at school and I'll bring a pink bib. Don't test me, Isaac. You'll find I'm a little shit when I want to be."

Isaac narrowed his eyes at Stiles. "You wouldn't."

"I would and I'll ask the coach to join me and he will once I tell him that one of his players could be out of commission because he doesn't eat properly."

The teen stared at him for a second, his mouth forming an O. "You're serious," he whispered.

"Yes. Yes I am. Anyway I'm up next. Goodnight, Isaac. Goodnight, Derek. I'll be expecting a message from you later tonight. Bye!"

Derek's lips quirked upwards and he offered Stiles a small wave, barely a movement of his fingers. "Bye, Stiles."

Isaac's eyes strayed from Derek to his teacher. Oookay then.

Once Stiles had reached the exit, Derek's smile dropped and he scowled. " ** _Peter_**." He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his fingers quickly sliding over the screen. He punched in the number and put it against his ear waiting for the rings to stop, once they did he spoke. "I told you not to get involved."

" _I merely played the role of a concerned neighbour and welcomed him to our town._ "

Isaac moved around Derek and started to load the items onto the conveyer belt. His hand tightened around the phone. "I told you to stay away from him."

" _You shouldn't get so possessive until you make it official. Otherwise it seems creepy and off putting._ "

"Next time I see you, I'm going to rake my claws through your stomach."

" _Jealously isn't a good look, Derek."_

"I'm not telling you again. Stay away from Stiles." Derek aggressively ended the call and placed his phone back into his pocket. He turned and helped to load the remaining items, his teeth grinding in his mouth. Isaac decided to remain silent, as he really didn't want to be on Derek's bad side right now. He'd learned a while ago that meetings with Peter usually ended up badly. For everyone. Especially him, because he lived with Derek. But there's something he has to tell Derek. Something that Derek needs to know.

"Derek?"

"Yeah, Isaac?"

Isaac glanced up and quickly looked away, the anger is radiating off Derek in waves of controlled fury, thick and forceful. He swallowed. "Mr. Stilinski smells like that thing in the forest. It's faint but it's there. It was there when I came back from getting the cart, but not before. Didn't you notice it?"

Derek's hand paused over the cereal box. "I didn't." He scowled and shoved the box on the conveyer belt. "We need a pack meeting, soon." Derek sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. What did this thing want with Stiles?

-.-.-.-.-.-

Peter let out an amused laugh, tossed his phone down and sat on the couch, throwing his arms over the back. He sat regally and proudly, his lips pulled back into a smirk. Really now, if Derek reacted like that, he wasn't going to leave the little human alone.

Poking and prodding Derek was amusing and a close second was Lydia, oh how he loved tormenting them.

He hummed to himself, the newest addition to Beacon Hills was no doubt entirely human, but there was something there. The boy had a very good judge of character, perhaps it was instincts? But he wasn't the brightest now was he? Who would willingly come to Beacon Hills after its gruesome and haunting history that would in fact continue? Maybe that was what made him so interesting, that despite being fully aware of everything, he still came. He hoped the teacher survived if no other reason than amusement and if things were going to continue on the path he foresaw, Mr. Stilinski was going to become a permanent addition to the pack, he was sure about that.

Oh, he hoped there was drama because, really now, things had been rather boring recently. You could only tease someone so much until it got tiresome. Hopefully the human would help relieve some of his boredom.

Contrary to popular belief, he did enjoy an intelligent conversation from time to time with other people or association with others. It wasn't his fault everyone took offence to every not so nice word out of his mouth. He rolled his eyes. Over emotional idiots every one of them.

Speaking of idiots–had the pack figured out what the latest thump in the night was? They'd come crawling soon enough, Peter thought to himself and smiled. Oh, he hoped everyone came, maybe he'd get a reaction out of Boyd this time? But until then he had nothing better to do than idle his time away.

Perhaps he should check up on Melissa?

Remind her he isn't dead?

Pay a visit to the Argents? Make him waste some ammunition, drive him mad...actually that wasn't a good idea, with the way their bloodline went, that was a legitimate illness.

Chris was actually the most sane of all the Argents. Hell, even his daughter had her little crazy stint, what spared Chris from that? He really should ask, just to annoy the hunter. Oh, the decisions to make. He grinned. He'd decide after a nice glass of wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek being angry when he smells Stiles is because he smelled Peter's scent if that wasn't clear when reading. : 3


	8. Choices and Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kittiekatt edited another chapter! Yay! Finding her was seriously one of the best things in my life, I've grown a lot because of her as a writer so thank you for being my beta and just honestly editing the Hell out of my work even if I still cringe when I see too much red or whatever color you feel like doing that day.
> 
> So...anyone want to give me guidance on more explicit writing? *Sits and waits*
> 
> Also! It's my birthday in two days! Turning 20 on the 20th I'm more excited about turning 20 on 20 than I am about anything else...well that probably says a lot about my mental age *shrugs* enjoy!

**Welcome to Beacon Hills**

**Chapter 8: Choices and Regrets**

Later than night, after Stiles had eaten his dinner and talked to his father (and no, being attractive was not against the law, even if the person was sinfully attractive, at least not in America he was sure it was illegal somewhere in the East... probably), he'd ended up in front of his laptop going over his lesson plan. His room itself was, in simple terms, chaotic. Books and stray paper were scattered about, words written down that made no sense to anyone, the pages in the books opened to seemingly random pages in an order that only he could understand. He sat in his mess unhindered, in all honestly his room was finally home. On the wall near the window a collection of mug shots sat.

Derek's picture hung dead center, underneath it various articles about him connected with green and red strings, more thread shot out into a web of color. From Derek a blue line stretched to another, Laura's lifeless eyes stared back, her body cut in half. Next to it Peter Hale's picture, unclear and distorted as he lay on the hospital bed a few days after the fire. Underneath them all, red letters spelled out **_Hale Fire_**. From Derek and Laura two yellow lines extended going upwards forming a triangle under Scott, who was contacted to all the other students in his class in lines that wound and jumped around each other in a messy order of green, yellow, red and blue. Isaac's blue line drew back down to Derek, **_Guardian_** spelled on the side. Between the rest of the names question marks stood. Various articles of all the deaths and unexplained happenings in Beacon Hills pinned around the pictures and names. And can he mention how many of his students have mug shots? Because the majority of them have mug shots, mug shots that make them look like models on the cover of Vogue or some form of high class magazine. These are mug shots, not professional test shot pictures for the most attractive teenagers in North America!

Jackson, Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd all have mug shots and he's sure Danny has one, somewhere because Danny has been arrested before for hacking, and he's not supposed to know any of this. But more so about Danny because that stuff was actually wiped out and he may have gone into Federal levels to see it…maybe. Hey! He learned a whoooole lot more than just the things required to teach, he was all over the place in university, took a few programming classes, theater, dance, advance calculus, and a few other upper math classes, biology, physics, a couple of humanities courses. Yeah, he was a learning whore. He was _everywhere_ and learned a lot of things, like hacking into databases both State and Federal level. And no, his dad did _not_ know about that particular talent of his and he wasn't going to _ever_ find out, if he was good at what he did. If he wasn't well then…his dad was going to need bail money. Lots and lots of bail money.

Stiles blinked as his phone vibrated on his desk. He pulled it towards himself, swiping at the screen, smiling as a picture of Isaac trying to eat a burrito appeared.

Isaac's face smeared with red sauce and bits of lettuce and rice grains stuck to his face, his eyes remained closed as his mouth opened wide.

He scrolled down as his phone vibrated again. _Your proof._

His curled up in his computer chair, placing his feet up on the edge of the spinning chair and slowly typed something back.  _Are you not going to tell him about the giant mess on his face? Even if it's cute how tough he pretends to be and still makes a mess when he eats._

Seconds later a reply came. _If you ever tell Isaac that, he'll punch you out._

_I'm one of his favorite teachers he'd scowl and do nothing else._

_Very confident he likes you that much?_

_Yes. In case you haven't noticed lots of people like me in Beacon Hills. I'd say there was magic at work, but it's just me._

_Cocky, but you are right, lots of people do like you in Beacon Hills._

_Even you?_

_I don't like anybody, but you are considerably less annoying than the majority of Beacon Hills._

_Whoa, someone may think that Derek Hale is actually flattering someone, or dare I say it? Paid someone a compliment._

_Nobody would dare make that mistake._

_Dick._ Stiles frowned when minutes passed and no reply came. _I was kidding. Did I hurt your feelings?_

_Oh my God are you secretly a softie? Like just made of unexpressed feelings?_

_I bet you cried when Mufasa died, didn't you? Locked yourself in a room and just bawled your eyes out. And if you didn't that's bad, man, bad. Like you need to see a therapist bad._

When no reply came even after his continuous bombardment Stiles shrugged and tossed his phone back on the table and went back to his lesson plan.

-.-.-.-.-.-

An hour later his phone shook, Stiles reached over and absently grasped it. He glanced down at the message.

_You babble. Even in texts._

_I never said I wouldn't. So did I hurt your feelings?_

_It's okay if you have feelings. I won't tell…total lie I'd tell everyone willing to listen._

_We were washing dishes._

_Be still my heart, a man who cooks and cleans and does it with his adopted brother I think you have just made me swoon._

_How about I actually knock you to the ground?_

_Don't touch my face, Hale. It's too beautiful to be broken._

_…Yeah, sure._

_Hey! Just because some of us don't work out 24/7 doesn't mean we aren't pretty. Give a guy a complex why don't you!  Not all of us live in a gym, what do you do lift? Truck tires?_

_No. I lift actual trucks._

_Seriously?! I'd pay to see that, you could be your own one man circus. Derek Hale, the truck lifter, come one and come all see this man's muscles flex, pay a little extra and he'll do it shirtless! XD Oh my God I actually laughed. I'm hilarious, ha!_

_Are you even  qualified to be a teacher?_

Stiles let out laugh and grinned. He had to give it to Derek, he was good. _I do have a degree, it cost me a pretty penny too._

_I want to see it. It might be a forgery. I don't want the future of Beacon Hills to be in the hands of an insane idiot._

_Please we both know that there is nothing I could do, to one up **any** of the shit that goes down around here._

_…Fair point._

_So, what are you up to?_

_Nothing much._

_So boring._

_Stiles?_

_Hm?_

_How are you now?_

Stiles' hand paused  over the screen. In all honesty he hadn't let his mind wander there, keeping busy. He hadn't even told his dad, because he worried, he worried so much over things like that. He didn't want to tell Derek he had panic attacks from time to time, he didn't want to Derek to know, but truthfully on some level there was this little whisper, quiet and soft that said it was okay if Derek knew. That it was okay if Derek knew these things about him. Stiles bit his lip. His fingers slowly and deliberately pecked at the screen, he pressed send.

 _I'm better now. I took something to help._ That is as much truth as he can muster out of himself. Maybe in time he'll tell Derek the whole truth, but that'll come later, when he knows Derek a little better.

_Okay, as long as you're okay and Stiles?_

_Yeah?_

_If you ever need help or something is wrong you can call me anytime. **Anytime**_ _and I'll be there, okay?_

That's...he doesn't know what to say. His throat tightens. _Thank you, Derek._

_You're welcome. Goodnight, Stiles._

_Goodnight, Derek._

Stiles put the phone down and scrubbed his eyes, his hands slipped down and cupped his mouth, his eyes drifted down back down to the table, where the sleek plastic reflected the ceiling. Derek Hale was surprisingly sweet despite his exterior, his manly, cactus like, prickly, very _attractive_ exterior. In time what else will Derek surprise him with? His lips twitched upwards. He had his own surprises he'd like to show Derek. Oh, he _definitely_ wanted to show Derek.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Industrial. That's the word that fits for this place. Industrial, grey, spacious, but barely furnished. There's a coffee table in the middle of the room, with couches and the only reason that Derek even has those is because the pack had pooled their money, most of them actually picking up part-time jobs so they could afford everything, and even then Lydia and Jackson made up the deficit. Derek had caved and bought the side tables, TV and a stand to go with it. But other than that, the place seems dismal at best, the only bits of life coming from Isaac. His tossed shirts, and lacrosse gear by the door, textbooks piled high on the coffee table. The only clue that Derek lives there is his scent, other than that, there really isn't any indication of someone else. He has a bedroom past the spiral staircase in the middle of the room, but no one goes there. There's a hint of ash that makes its presence known to and their stomachs swim and their hearts hurt. They avoid the first floor. Further down, past the gleaming and polished kitchen made of silver is a window, a huge window that envelops the entire wall, black wood that crossed and formed numerous squares on the window. In front of it is a table where the pack usually converges.

Derek leaned by the window, his brow furrowed and his arms crossed stiffly over his chest. The phone in his hand was clutched tightly between his fingers. He tilted his head up so it touched the ice cold glass and closed his eyes. He doesn't have enough power to protect everyone, he doesn't have enough strength to save everyone. He's aware of that, he's been aware that for years, he's aware of it every time someone dies in this town, but still, _still_ he wants to be able to protect _someone_ , to save a life. He wants to be able to protect just one person so there isn't this sting of regret and remorse. So that he doesn't have to see how Scott looks every time they fail, so he doesn't have to sense the regret and shame that all of them wear. Doesn't want to see the misery in their eyes that threatens to drown all of them, threatens to consume them all until there is nothing left. He wants to be able to protect one person, _he wants to be able to protect Stiles_.

There's shuffling and the floorboards creak. Isaac comes out of his room with sleep tinted eyes and messed up hair, he yawns and rubs his eye coming over towards Derek. "Why are you up?"

"Thinking about things."

Isaac walked closer and leaned on the opposite side of the wall, watching his alpha closely. "You aren't the only one to blame, you know? We all are, it's not just you."

"I'm the alpha."

"That doesn't make you perfect, but regardless, you're our alpha and we don't want anyone else. We want you." Derek turned to look at Isaac and smiled at him, his smile faint and, barely there. Isaac looked down at his feet and picked at the hole in his shirt. "Do you regret sometimes that we're your pack?"

Derek tilted his head and stared at Isaac intently, watching the way the teen avoided his eyes and kept picking at the hole in his shirt, threading his fingers against the white cotton and stretching it out. He's known for a long time why he keeps Isaac so close, why he lets Isaac live with him. Isaac needs somewhere that belongs to him, he's never had one, and he can give Isaac that, a place that's his, a place where he's safe and protected, where the shadows and creaks don't frighten him. He can give Isaac that.

But he'd forgotten, something so important, that Isaac needed more than that, he needed the one thing he never had, never had the chance to experience, that's foreign to him, unknown, but he still craves.

Affection, warmth, _family_. Someone that cares. And the words are so simple, but so hard to do. The only one who'd shown him care was Laura. He had been too young to be without his mother or father's love and affection but Laura had tried her best to give him that. Had hugged him for no reason or ruffled his hair. Her favorite was curling up on the sofa with her legs in his lap when they watched TV just because she loved throwing things at him, popcorn, candy, bits of paper and he'd let her, grinning when she missed because she had terrible aim. _That's_ what Isaac wants, familiar touches filled with love and affection, teasing smirks. He wants the kind of  familiarity that belongs only to family, the ease and understanding of a single glance. Isaac wants his own family.

And he'll try to give Isaac that, he'll try because he's promised and because Isaac is something he never thought he would ever have again--a little brother. He has things he never thought he'd ever have again a pack, a family, and although they started off rough and broken full of anger and resentment, but each and every one of them is his own. They belong to him and him to them, and he wouldn't change that. He never wanted to, not even when everything went to shit.

"No. I never have and I never will."

The teen quickly looked up, his eyes wide. "Really?" The question is soft and quiet.

"Yes."

"You don't have anything you regret?"

Derek paused. "There is one thing."

Isaac's hands tightened around his shirt. "What?"

"I regret the way I bit all of you. I hate myself for doing that, for preying on you, on your weakness, for making the bite sound like it was the answer to all your prayers. I hate myself for taking advantage of you. All of you."

"Derek, you gave us _a choice_. Scott didn't get that."

"No, you _think_ you had a choice, but you didn't."

Isaac's hand shot out and grabbed Derek's arm. He tightened his hold and forced Derek to look at him. "We all said yes. Everything that happened to us after that, all the mistakes we made, none of that was your fault, it was ours. None of us regrets taking the bite. I definitely don't. You want to know why? Because I have a family. I have a big brother. I don't have to walk into a place where I'm afraid I'm going to be hit, where someone who is supposed to protect me, hurts me. I don't feel trapped, feel the need to run away. I have a home here with you, where I know I'm safe, where I know I'm going to be okay. And that's thanks to you and the bite. The bite...maybe it wasn't so much a gift as it was, a chance to start over, to be something greater, to give me a chance."

"Do you really feel like that?"

"Yes." Derek reached out and hugged Isaac tightly. He placed his head on top of thick blond curls and sighed. Isaac wound his arms around Derek and fisted the back of his shirt. "Don't keep blaming yourself for every little thing. You're allowed to be happy. You're allowed to have things. You're allowed to have a pack, a family, and you shouldn't feel guilty because you do."

"But I do feel guilty."

"You shouldn't," Isaac muttered definitively.

"It's not that easy."

"I know it's not, but I wish it were sometimes." Isaac slowly let go and smiled. "Do you feel better?"

"I do."

"Good."

Derek ruffled Isaac's hair. "Go to bed. You have school tomorrow. And another photo shoot in the morning."

Isaac's nose wrinkled. "You know, it's weird that you have my teacher's number...if you two get together will I get extra credit?"

"I'm not getting together with your teacher just so you can get extra credit."

"...So you'll get together–"

"Isaac," Derek warned.

"I mean, I don't mind if you like guys, really I don't. In case you haven't noticed, Danny is gay, and Mr. Stilinski is cool, really cool. I think the majority of the pack would approve. You'll have our blessing on this one!" Isaac said as he bolted into his room, not looking back.

"Isaac!" Derek scowled as he heard snickers. "I'm going to kick your ass later."

A murmured voice replied back clearly to his hearing. _"You mean you want to look at Mr. Stilinski's ass."_

"I heard that!" The snickers morphed into howling laughter. Derek's scowl deepened and he stomped towards his room. Stupid teenage betas.

Isaac listened to Derek's boots stomp up the stairs and grinned. Derek might not admit that he likes his teacher in that way, but he knew that Derek cared a little bit about Mr. Stilinski and the truth was that his teacher was charming, no matter how much Jackson might want to deny it. And everyone was charmed once they got to know him, maybe Derek would be as well. But, honestly speaking, Derek needed friends his age, and if that friend happened to be Mr. Stilinski then good, because Derek couldn't keep only hanging around teenagers, it was just weird. Maybe Mr. Stilinski would make Derek lighten up, maybe be a bit happier.

His smile dimmed.

Derek deserved to be happy, no matter how much he wanted not to be, or think he didn't, he did. And he wished–everyone wished-- for him to be happy and sometimes he was. Sometimes he wouldn't smell like guilt and shame, but those times were rare and whenever it happened, the pack would all be happy, and their smiles would be brighter and their laughter louder. That's probably what made those times so special for everyone, when Derek would be caught off guard that he'd laugh into his pop then wrinkle his nose trying to get the feeling out of his nose, or when his laugh would be more than just a snort, but an actual laugh. It's not realistic to expect that Derek won't feel guilty at all, but it's okay to expect, or at least hope, for a time when he won't feel guilty _all_ the time... _right_?

It's okay for him to hope for a time like that, isn't it? For _all_ of them to hope for that?

 _Right_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT ALL THAT DEREK! I TOLD YOU THERE WOULD BE DEREK SOON! and that angst ha! I'm such a little shit about angst it's like my favorite weapon, so I hope you enjoyed! : )


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